


You're going to need a bigger boat

by wtfkovah



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Twins, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Meet-Cute, Rough Oral Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29447610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wtfkovah/pseuds/wtfkovah
Summary: “Oh…” Seungcheol says suddenly. It’s just dawning on him. “You’re twins.”Woozi just gives him a flat, disbelieving look and says, “No shit, Sherlock. Jihoon, you didn’t tell me this guy was a fucking genius.”
Relationships: Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 29
Kudos: 238





	1. You'll do

**Author's Note:**

> The second chapter in this story was one I had written a few years ago, just, you know, for smut. I'd always wanted to expand on it with a sequel, but then I figured a prequel would be more entertaining, so...yeah.

“Are you a serial killer?”

Seungcheol pushes his milkshake aside so he can lean his elbows on the table and squint. “If I was—do you really think I’d confess to it?”

It’s evidently not the right thing to say, because Jihoon starts looking _uncomfortable_. That is to say, more uncomfortable than he _already_ was.

He’s been weirdly shy since Seungcheol slid into the seat across from his and introduced himself, but there’s considerable nervous energy coming from him now. So much so, the pen in his hand trembles faintly. 

Seungcheol sighs, closing his eyes for a defeated moment. 

“No. The answer is _no_. I am not a serial killer.”

“Oh, okay, Good.” Jihoon quirks a small smile, moving his pen across the paper. “Okay, next question—have you murdered anyone before?”

 _This is a bad sign_ —Seungcheol thinks, pinching the bridge of his nose. They’ve been at this for half an hour now. Thirty minutes of similarly weird and disturbing questions, so either Jihoon has an...interesting sense of humour…or he is genuinely worried about picking a new housemate who plans on killing him, maiming him, setting his bed on fire.

Which, _fine_ —Seungcheol kind of gets it; he’s had his fair share of bizarre housemates in college and beyond, and Jihoon and his brother are taking a big risk sub-letting a room in their apartment to a perfect stranger—it makes sense to be thorough when vetting candidates. But there’s a huge difference between doing a basic credit or background check, and asking Seungcheol for a saliva sample so his DNA can be cross-checked against a database of murderous criminals.

What’s next? A _Rorschach_ test?

Seriously, what kind of psycho vibes is Seungcheol inadvertently giving off?

“No. I have never murdered anyone.” He manages to say evenly, ignoring the nervous looks from the people in the next booth.

Jihoon pencils that answer in too, then says, “Have you _thought_ about murder—”

“I have no violent tendencies whatsoever,” Seungcheol cuts in, gently, “I’m a pretty laid back guy, and I believe my _last_ two housemates will attest to that if you check my references. So, uhm, maybe we can skip the psychological portion of your questionnaire?”

Jihoon looks conflicted, “Sorry, but I don’t think my brother would like that. He’s the one who insisted on this meet up in the first place. We’ve had a few bad experiences in the past, so he’s very particular about who we share our apartment with.”

“Where _is_ your brother?” Seungcheol asks, because the ad he replied to online sounded very straightforward and rational, so there must be a reasonable Lee brother, and Jihoon is clearly not him, “I thought I was to meet you both here.”

Jihoon shifts uncomfortably in his chair. “Oh, uh, he’ll be here soon. He’s just finishing up his shift at—oh, there he is.” He scoots over in his seat, just as a slim, pink-haired guy, dressed in jeans and a build-a-bear uniform shirt, slides into their booth. “Woozi, this is Seungcheol, Seungcheol—Uji.”

Seungcheol flashes a polite smile, glancing between them. Then doubletakes.

Woozi’s got the exact same features as Jihoon, the same narrow build, same height, even the same cute little button nose. Except he looks ten times angrier, and if Seungcheol was the sort of person to jump to uncharitable conclusions, he would have also said that he’s seriously hungover.

“Oh…” He says suddenly. It’s just dawning on him. “You’re _twins_.”

Woozi just gives him a flat, disbelieving look and says, “No _shit_ , Sherlock. Jihoon, you didn’t tell me this guy was a fucking _genius_.”

Seungcheol’s so taken aback by his gruff attitude, he can’t think of anything more to say. He can only look on as Woozi takes a sip of his brother’s banana milkshake, gags, then reaches across the table to drag Seungcheol’s over instead.

“This strawberry? You mind?” He asks, sticking a second straw in, then proceeds to drain the entire thing without waiting for an answer.

There’s a brief moment of respite while he drinks, where Seungcheol shoots Jihoon a ‘What the fuck?’ look across the table and Jihoon darts a ‘sorry’ one back, but the second the milkshake disappears, Woozi drops his hands on the table, palms flat. " _So_ …what’s wrong with you?”

Seungcheol blinks at him for a minute.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“What are you _hiding_?” Woozi reiterates impatiently. When Seungcheol blinks at him some more, Woozi rolls his eyes. “In your email, you said you’ve been crashing at your brother’s since you got kicked out of your last place, that you’ve been looking for a new place for _months_ , so we wanna know what kind of weird, quirky behaviours you have that are putting other potential housemates off. Like, I dunno, maybe you like to strut around the apartment naked, or take pictures of people when they’re sleeping, or have a massive gross collection of toenail clippings.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes, wondering if Woozi is fucking with him; this has got to be some huge joke. Normal people—sane people—don’t ask these kind of questions. They wouldn’t _need_ to ask these questions. In return, Woozi raises one eyebrow, like he is absolutely fucking serious and needs an answer.

Seungcheol clears his throat awkwardly, “No, I—I don’t do any of that shit. I’m just a regular guy. And I didn’t get _kicked_ out of my last place, I don’t know where you got that from; my lease was up and it was really length commute for work, and since my housemate wanted to move in with his boyfriend, it made sense for me to find somewhere new. I just haven’t been able to find a place I can afford that’s in a decent location.”

Woozi gives him a pointed look.

“Or is it because you butchered your last housemate and hid his body in the ventilation ducts?”

“No. What? That’s—no.” Seungcheol flounders like a beached whale. “I’m…I’m just a normal guy. I swear.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Woozi says, settling back in his chair and smirking. “How far have you gotten with the questions Hoonie?”

“We’re half-way.” Jihoon murmurs.

“Only half? Let me see.” Woozi pulls the papers out of his brother’s hand and starts scanning through, shaking his head, “Oh no, this isn’t good. This is not good _at all_. Not gonna lie, this does not look very promising for you Mr Choi.” He blows out a breath then flings the papers back to his twin, “Might as well finish asking your questions Hoonie—he couldn’t do any worse than he already has.”

Jihoon nods. Then he takes a long sip of his own milkshake, swallows, draws in a deep breath, and says, “Have you ever _thought_ about murdering someone?”

Squinting across the table thoughtfully, Seungcheol gives that question some genuine consideration. 

“Honestly….”

* * *

The interview, such as it is, goes downhill from there.

Not that it was going particularly _well_ in the first place, but Seungcheol hates having him time wasted, and deliberately matching their outlandish questions with his even more outlandish answers feels a little like payback.

They don’t reject him outright, they don’t _say_ as much, but Woozi takes great pleasure in telling him he’s completely unsuitable for the vacancy, and he shouldn’t expect to hear from them again, ‘Bye!’, and Seungcheol pulls out the fakest, most insincere smile in his arsenal and counts his fucking blessings.

He’s desperate to move out of his brother’s spare room, but holy shit, he’s not _that_ desperate.

A few minutes later, he’s out on the sidewalk, heading back towards his car, when he spots the Lee twins waiting at the bus-stop up ahead, chatting with some guy.

 _Arguing_ , he determines the closer he gets, which— _yeah_ , really isn’t all that surprising. Of course, they would illicit that reaction everywhere they go. They’ve probably accused the poor guy of cannibalism or something.

Except…it doesn’t seem like they’ve initiated whatever heated argument is going on.

They’re just standing there, waiting for their bus, and it’s the guy who’s showing all the outward signs of aggression; he’s _looming_ over them as he talks, loud and loutish and possibly a little drunk, and even though Woozi’s making a reasonable effort of consoling his brother while simultaneously glaring at the guy to leave them alone, it’s clear to see the twins are both becoming irritated, verging on distressed.

Seungcheol has never considered himself that much of a do-gooder. He prefers to think of his drive to generally be helpful as a basic requirement of being a decent human being, and lives his life accordingly. Butting in here doesn’t _exactly_ qualify, and it’s really none of his business, but he can’t bring himself to just _walk_ on. 

“Hey!” Seungcheol barks, rounding on the guy, “Back off asshole.”

The guy sobers up instantly, eyes widening. He takes half a step back, then turns and staggers away.

When Seungcheol cuts a glance over at the Lee twins, they’re both so visibly scared and tensed up, they look like kittens that have been introduced to a vacuum for the first time. And okay, Seungcheol’s not blind, he knows how intimidating he looks when he’s pissed off at someone, but his irritation was clearly aimed at the guy, not the twins, and there’s no reason for them to huddle like that. Like he’s got _designs_ for them. 

He turns to walk on, then stops. It’s really late, the sun set hours ago and it’s cold out, and it’ll probably be even colder and darker by the time a bus rolls around, and as annoying as the Lee twins are, the thought of leaving them here for another drunk idiot to come along and pester just doesn’t sit right with him.

“Listen—” He starts, in the most neutral, non-serial-killer voice he can manage. “My car’s parked just a few minutes away—if you want a lift.” Then, because they’re still looking a little wary, “You know I was just joking when I said I befriend vegans so I can drink their blood. I don’t have _any_ vegan friends actually.” 

* * *

“How’d it go?” Seungmin asks, when Seungcheol’s standing in the kitchen later, eating pizza over the sink.

Seungmin’s girlfriend is a little too obsessive compulsive about cleaning, and crumbs, and how cushions should be arranged on the couch. Just some of the many reasons Seungcheol’s so desperate to find his own space again. 

He’s done his upmost to be a considerate house guest, but there’s OCD and then there’s just being a bitch for bitch’s sake, and he doesn’t know how his brother has the patience for it sometimes. 

“Not great, but I’m checking out another place tomorrow after work.” Seungcheol says, trying to turn the water on with his elbow with little success.

Seungmin nods and changes the subject, asks about how his work is going. They chat for a while, until his girlfriend is calling him away to complain about the how ‘someone’ is hanging towels lopsidedly in the bathroom. Not naming any names, but talking deliberately loud enough for Seungcheol to hear.

Later, he’s lying on the futon, messing around on his phone when the most unexpected message of his life comes through from an unknown number.

_Hey, It’s Lee Woozi. When can you move in?_

“Seriously?”

* * *

The upside of living out of a suitcase is that Seungcheol’s technically already packed, and he’s accumulated very little extra junk in the six months he’s been crashing at his brother’s, he doesn’t even have to hire a truck come moving day. He just drives himself over there with his bags and a couple boxes one Saturday afternoon and parks up. Easy peasy.

Except—

“Oh, it’s _you_.” One of the Lee twins says, answering his knock looking so sleekly annoyed he almost makes annoyed look good. Seungcheol’s not sure which one of them it is, because last he checked, one had light blonde hair and the other had jet-black hair, and this one has a _red mullet_ , so it’s anyone’s guess who he’s looking at. 

Unless…oh god…

Unless there’s _three_ of them.

Red Mullet’s lips quirk up, almost like he’s laughing at Seungcheol.

“No—there’s only two of us. I’m Woozi, I’m just…” He gestures vaguely at his head, “—trying something new with my hair. Kind of regretting it now.”

Seungcheol reflects on the change.

“It’s…nice.” He says, and winces at his own voice. Flat and toneless, yeah, that’s real convincing.

“It’s just hair, it’ll grow back. But thanks for trying, I guess,” Woozi says, his smile bright and fake, then leans across to hauls Seungcheol bodily over the threshold by his jacket sleeve. “Will you get your ass in here already, you’re letting all the heat out.”

The apartment is pretty awesome—a tenth-floor place in Nampo with underground parking, an integrated smart-home system, and a massive wrap-around balcony overlooking a lovely view of an urbanised park just starting to show its spring growth. The living area is open planned but nicely segregated, with the kitchen unit in one corner, a dining area in the other, and two comfy looking corner couches dominating the second half.

Seungcheol barely has a second to set his stuff down and take a look around before Jihoon makes an appearance, bouncing down the corridor in a Battlestar Galactica T-shirt and shorts. He squeaks when he sees Seungcheol, and runs away. Then comes back a few seconds later, red in the ears, and shuffles over to present him with a little travel wallet. 

“I…I made you this welcome pack. It’s got all your keys and cards and important stuff inside. But like, also some travel sized toiletries and a universal charger and some complimentary mints. I always forget to pack stuff when I go places, but I went to this convention once, and they gave me a pack just like this, and I thought it was a really cool idea, so I—I made you one.”

“Wow, that’s…incredible. Thank you, Jihoon.” Seungcheol can’t help but smile.

Jihoon catches his smile and returns it. _Blushing_.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s a cute idea,” Woozi cuts in abruptly, hip-checking his brother aside so he can round on Seungcheol, “But _most_ importantly, it’s got a list of our ground _rules_ inside—be sure to memorize each and every one of them. If your break a single one, you’re out on your ass. Got it?”

“Got it.” Seungcheol nods—then salutes him for good measure.

Woozi narrows his eyes at him, unimpressed. Then he’s gone, striding down the corridor and disappearing into what is probably his bedroom.

“Sorry, you’ll have to excuse him,” Jihoon whispers, padding closer, “He’s…uhm, he kind of broke up with his boyfriend. _Again_.”

The tight-lipped way he says it makes it clear he's not planning to volunteer any further information. Or perhaps, like he’s sick of _talking_ about it. Either way, it’s not Seungcheol’s place to pry, so he just nods and lets Jihoon give him a tour of the place.

* * *

Seungcheol’s room is the last on the left—a little smaller than it looked in the pictures Jihoon had uploaded, but bolstered by the fact that it has an ensuite, brand new carpet and a private balcony with a decent view. There’s the bare minimum of furniture left over from the last occupant—a double bed, a wardrobe, a small bedside table—but it’s way more than Seungcheol was expecting, and he’d been planning a trip to IKEA anyway, so now he has fewer flat packs to fit into the back of his car. 

He has the contents of Jihoon’s welcome-pack spread out around him on the bed and is carefully reading through the Ground Rules, when a message comes through on his phone from Woozi, inviting him to a ‘House Meeting’ in the living room in two minutes. Seungcheol hasn’t even started _unpacking_ yet, but he’s guessing his attendance is non-optional and sure enough, when he pads down the corridor, he finds Woozi and Jihoon waiting for him.

Woozi’s tapping his foot impatiently, even though Seungcheol’s a whole 90 seconds early, and Jihoon has his laptop at the ready, like he’s going to take the _minutes_.

Oh, Jesus—what has he gotten himself in to?

“Okay, so you’ve been here, what? A day?” Woozi begins as he takes a seat.

Seungcheol checks his watch, “More like twenty-five minutes. But, yeah, let’s round up.”

“Well, I think that’s time enough. We need to discuss the main rule.”

“But I haven’t had a chance to memorize them yet.” Seungcheol says helplessly.

Woozi’s already shaking his head, “No, not _the_ ground rules. The _main_ rule. It’s not on your list, because it should go without _saying_ , but I’ll say it this one time and then never again. Got it?”

 _More rules,_ Seungcheol nods, _awesome._

“Good.” Woozi nods, then crosses his arms and stares him dead in the eye, “We’re not going to sleep with you.”

Seungcheol actually has to turn his head around to check if there’s someone standing behind him. Someone that might possibly be holding a sign that says ‘ _Sex_?’ Because that’s really the only explanation for that non-sequitur.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Across the couch, Jihoon fidgets awkwardly while his twin begins to _glare_.

“We’re not having sex with you Seungcheol. Ever. Period.”

“I don’t remember asking.” Seungcheol huffs, throwing out a hand.

Woozi’s glare softens, just a tad, “Yeah, well, we just want to make it perfectly clear, just in case you’ve got some _weird_ ideas about instigating a threesome someday down the line. I’m telling you now, it’s not going to happen.”

Dividing a careful look between the twins, Seungcheol sucks in a breath and says, “Has this been an issue with your _previous_ housemates?”

Jihoon’s staring resolutely at his laptop, and the jaded look Woozi levels back seems to say that _yes, yes it was._ Seungcheol can't decide whether this is baffling or appalling. The twins are cute, sure, maybe even his type under different circumstances, but he can’t imagine a scenario where he’d try and sleep with both of them at the same time. That’s like having your cake and eating it. Except it’s two cakes, and they’re both identically delicious…

That actually sounds pretty awesome. _Fuck_.

Seungcheol shakes his head to clear it, “Right, well, uhm—you have nothing to worry about. I have no interest in pursuing that kind of relationship with either of you. Individually, or uhm, _combined_. We’re just housemates—nothing more. I can respect that.”

“Okay, good,” Woozi says at last, nodding and exchanging a look with his twin like they’ve reached some understanding. “Meeting adjourned.”

He disappears back down the corridor, leaving Seungcheol and Jihoon sitting across from each other on the couch.

“Right—” Seungcheol begins, clapping his hands down on his thighs. He’s suddenly eager to think about something else. Anything else. “I’m heading out to IKEA to pick up some stuff for my room, and I’m probably going to swing by the supermarket on my way back to grab some groceries. Do you…need anything?”

Jihoon looks hesitant for a moment, like maybe he thinks Seungcheol is trying to seduce him with Swedish meatballs, then scurries off and comes back baring a whole ass A4 page.

Thankfully, there is only one item on the page: a 24 pack of _Coca-Cola._

“That it?” Seungcheol asks, bemused.

Jihoon nods. “I’m nearly out. There’s only 45 cans left.”

* * *

At first, living with the Lee twins feels a lot like living with one guy with multiple personality disorder; they’ve got the exact same height, weight, eyes, lips, nose, voice… _everything_ , which is pretty fucking remarkable, even for identical twins—an illusion Jihoon and Woozi seem to be perfectly aware of and regularly exploit, possibly just to fuck with Seungcheol’s head?

It honestly feels that way sometimes.

In those first few weeks he rarely sees them side by side, so it’s easy to believe they’re just one person, and when they _do_ decide the share the same space, they’re usually sitting in front of the TV, dressed down for the night, so it’s almost impossible to tell them apart from their distinct clothing preferences.

Hair colour would have been the most obvious differentiator, but they switch up their colour and style with such alarming frequency Seungcheol finds it hard to keep up. Eventually he notices Jihoon has a teeny, tiny mole under his right eye that his twin doesn’t, and that Woozi is the only twin with his ears pierced, and he can finally start to build up what he knows about them _individually_. 

Jihoon is the nerdy introvert who likes banana milkshakes, science fiction movies and DnD, and wears adidas sliders regardless of the weather. He’s by far the more sensitive twin, or at least, the most transparent when it comes to expressing himself, and he’s also got a Coca-Cola addiction that Seungcheol both enables and privately worries about, because that’s just…way too much caffeine. That can’t be healthy. But hey—Jihoon must need that sugar to power his giant brain, because he’s definitely the smartest guy Seungcheol knows. At least, _academically_ speaking. He’ll try and suck rice up through a straw, but put a computer in front of him and he turns into fucking _Rain Man_. He graduated top of his class in computer sciences, and his current job as a freelance coder earns the big bucks that helped them get their apartment in the first place. Saying that, he’s a total pushover when it comes to his brother. 

Woozi is _definitely_ the one in charge, and god help anyone who tries to suggest otherwise.

He’s the louder, bolder, more confident twin, who has a preference for strawberry milkshakes and will eagerly feign an interest in anything going, until a higher power on social media deems it to be irrelevant. He takes the lead in most situations and handles the big decisions for both of them, whether Jihoon is happy with the choices he makes or not. Impressively, he was a lead dancer with the Korean National Ballet for three years before an injury forced him to step down, and despite a swift recovery, he hasn’t been able to get his foot back in the door. He’s been drifting from one dead-end job to another since, in between managing an OnlyFans account that Seungcheol will not be subscribing to. Even under an alias. He hasn’t let that set him back though—he still practices every day, even gives private lessons, and he’s the most socially active of the twins, with an ever-rotating group of pretentious ‘friends’ he hangs around with, and an even _more_ pretentious on and off boyfriend. _Sehun_.

Seungcheol’s only met Sehun in passing a couple of times and can already say in complete confidence, he hates his fucking guts.

He’s one of these artificially broody _art_ types who likes to pretend he’s shouldering all the world’s problems just because he takes part in a little _performative activism_. That is, when he’s not sipping top-shelf Mezcal from Whole Foods in his designer outfits. He also has this really annoying habit of inviting random people over to the apartment, even though he doesn’t live there, and the one time Seungcheol attempted to be friendly and asked him what he worked as, the answer was “I don’t work man—I _create_ ”, which just… _yeah_.

As far as Seungcheol’s concerned, he can go fuck himself. 

The fact that Jihoon isn’t overly fond of him either is somewhat reassuring, but the weirdest thing is, Seungcheol’s not even sure _Woozi_ likes him all that much. The affection between them is tepid at best; whatever chemistry they had apparently fizzled out once Woozi stopped investing time and money in Sehun’s ‘vision’ and started focusing on his own life struggles. Now they can’t seem to be in the same room for five minutes without fighting, which really begs the question: why are they still together?

Woozi could, grouchiness notwithstanding, do so much better in the boyfriend department. He’s smart, he’s attractive, he has a wicked sense of humour, and Seungcheol’s seen him interact with people he genuinely likes, so he knows Woozi’s capable of smiling on occasion. And it’s a nice smile too. It has fucking _dimples_. So why is he still clinging to his deadbeat boyfriend?

It’s not Seungcheol’s business, it’s not his right to ask, but he has to wonder about it.

* * *

Rules aside, Seungcheol is pretty sure he has to work hard to _earn_ his place in the apartment. Sure he pays rent, and contributes equally towards all the utility and grocery bills, but he kind figured that wouldn’t be enough, that he would have to bring something extra to the table to gain the Lee twin’s _seal of approval_. 

Turns out, it’s a lot easier than he expected.

He part-way achieves it by just _being_ a decent housemate; picking up milk on his way back from work, taking out the trash, changing out lightbulbs and toilet rolls and bust fuses when needed—things he doesn’t have to even think about doing, but were apparently failings in the previous housemates the twins had. That he’s also ready to take on some pretty basic DIY jobs earns him another big thumbs up, and becoming the designated ‘jar-opener’ and ‘high-shelf-reacher’ secures him several very sweet smiles from Jihoon and a hilariously dry _‘my hero’_ from Woozi.

Of course, there’s still a way to go between securing someone’s approval and actually becoming _friends_ with them, and as tightly-knit and high-maintenance as the Lee twin’s come across, Seungcheol would still like to have more than just a passing acquaintance with them. 

They _live_ together—it would be cool if they all got along too.

Unsurprisingly, Jihoon’s the easiest to win over, because even though he’s the oldest twin, (“by a whole ten minutes!”), the shiest, and the most financially independent, he’s actually the sweetest, neediest little baby.

He has very few friends IRL, and since his job means spending a lot of time in the apartment, working from home, his social life is practically non-existent, so having a second _actual_ person to eat dinner and shoot the shit with is very much appreciated. The fact that Seungcheol can also cook, has a varied taste in games and movies and music, and will happily spend time with him discussing all those things is apparently the _best thing ever._ Seungcheol doesn’t even have to do anything extraordinary and he’s already been designated _second_ _best friend_ status. Woozi comes first, _naturally_ , but still, the fact that Jihoon comes rushing out to greet him when he gets back from work is pretty fucking cute.

But what _really_ seals their friendship comes three months after Seungcheol moves in.

“Uh, are you expecting a parcel or something? Cause it’s a little late for deliveries, no?” Seungcheol asks, because it’s difficult to ignore the way Jihoon’s been pacing by the front door for the last thirty minutes. 

Jihoon’s silent, then he says, grudgingly, “I’m waiting for Uji. He was supposed to meet me here at four.”

Seungcheol checks the clock on the wall, 16:46, and spreads a little more cream cheese on his bagel.

“And I guess he’s not picking up his phone?”

Jihoon lifts one shoulder. “He answered once, said he was busy and would call me back. Now his phone is switched off and I have no idea where he is.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. He probably just got caught up at work.” Seungcheol mumbles around a mouthful of toasted bagel. “What do you need him for anyway?”

Jihoon stops pacing to look over at him, then quickly away again, “He’s supposed to come with me to my dental appointment. I’m getting my wisdom teeth taken out and I—” He stops talking, throat cutting off the words in a way that sounds frustrated.

Seungcheol’s bagel hovers in mid air for a moment, before he says, “I could...take you. If you want company. I’ve got nothing else to do.”

In truth, he’d actually planned to hit the gym, but he can always fit it in tomorrow instead.

“No, that’s fine. I’m a big boy, I can…I’ll take myself.” Jihoon murmurs. He stares down at his feet sadly, “I’m just…gonna wait for another few minutes. In case he missed his bus.”

Setting his bagel down, Seungcheol rubs his hands on a tea-towel and steps over to tilt Jihoon’s chin up. Up close like this, he can see how worked up Jihoon is, the anxious little quiver in his lower lip, the way he’s bitten it raw.

“Hoonie,” He soothes, “I can take you. I really don’t mind.”

Jihoon stares at him, eyes searching his face, and then seems to come to a decision and says, “Okay. If…if it’s not too much hassle.”

“Of course, not. Let me just grab my jacket.”

Jihoon’s quiet in the car, quiet all the way up in the elevator, quieter still while they’re sitting in the waiting room, watching a big bright yellow fish sail back and forth in the aquarium. Then his name gets called, and he shoots Seungcheol a pained little smile as he stands and follows the nurse down the corridor.

Seungcheol smiles back warmly and sinks into his chair to wait it out. Five minutes later, he’s flicking through a dull golf magazine, trying to get invested, when the same nurse reappears, looking _stressed_. 

“Jihoon’s having trouble settling.” She says, clasping her hands together, “I think his brother usually comes in with him…”

She trails off, then raises her eyebrows expectantly.

Seungcheol can only blink at her for a long moment before it _hits_ him.

“Oh.” He shoves the magazine aside, “Right. Sure.”

In the room, Jihoon’s already lying back in the dentist’s chair, a white apron tucked under his chin. He doesn’t take his gaze off the overhead light when Seungcheol follows the nurse in, but his fingers are white where they’re clamped around the armrest, and his breathing has that uneven, hitched quality to it that says he’s seconds away from panicking.

Without waiting to be asked, Seungcheol drags a chair over and sits down next to him, takes hold of one of his hands. When he squeezes gently, Jihoon squeezes back twice as hard, then he relaxes—melting into the chair. 

It’s all over in just under an hour, and Jihoon’s slurred little murmur of ‘ _sanks you Sseunccgeholss’_ as they’re climbing back into the car is extra fucking cute when his cheeks are so pink and puffed up and swollen.

“Anytime Hoonie.” Seungcheol grins, and is surprised to realise he really means it. “How about we grab some ice-cream on the way home? That way you won’t have to bite on anything, and it’ll help take the swelling down.”

“ _Threally_?” Jihoon says, stiffening in surprise next to him, his head jerking sideways. “Thwe than thet tithe cweam?”

He’s waving his hands energetically now, looking excited but also sort of confused. It’s adorable.

“I’m not sure what you just said there, but I’m going to take it as a _yes_ to the ice cream?”

Jihoon nods with his whole head, then says—“ _Pitpathio!”_

Which turns out to be _Pistachio_ , his favourite flavour of ice-cream. Seungcheol gets him three large scoops of it, in a tub, with extra hot fudge sauce, chopped nuts and lashings of whipped cream and drives them over to the beach, so Jihoon can enjoy it with a nice view. Jihoon ends up eating every single spoon while staring at him with honest to god _Bambi_ eyes, then falls asleep on Seungcheol’s jacket, whispering, “I loth you Thengthool.”

 _Those are some pretty strong painkillers_ —Seungcheol thinks, as he’s carrying him bridal style back to the car. 

There’s still no sign of Woozi when they get back to the apartment, but a few hours later, when they’re sitting in front of the TV eating dinner, he comes bursting through the front door, looking furious, and makes a beeline straight for his bedroom.

Jihoon quickly sets his tray aside and calls out to him, making a move to follow, but the scathing _“Yeah, I know, and I don’t care!”_ followed by the faraway slam of the bedroom door has him wilting back into the couch cushions with a grimace.

“Just give him a few hours, let him clear his head.” Seungcheol says, patting him gently on the thigh. 

* * *

Woozi’s apology, when he finally emerges from his bedroom, is quiet and guilty, and weirdly, not even aimed at his brother.

He appears in the kitchen as Seungcheol’s packing away leftovers, hovering there in his sleep shorts and a threadbare t-shirt from a college Seungcheol has never heard of, and looks, more than anything, exhausted.

He doesn’t say anything at first, so Seungcheol keeps himself busy by wiping down the counters for a bit. Then he has to stop because Woozi’s presence is hard to ignore under the best circumstances, but he’s downright distracting when he’s standing there, in the skimpiest of shorts, with eyeliner smudged to hell after another emotional blow-out with his dickhead boyfriend.

Seungcheol doesn’t know whether he wants to hug him or fuck his brains out over the breakfast bar. Then he feels like a horrible asshole for even thinking that.

The silence grows so long that Seungcheol wonders if he ought to say something, _‘Are you okay? What happened? Do you need me to punch someone? Because I will’_ , but just as he’s searching for the correct, reassuring thing to say, Woozi blurts out:

“Thanks for taking Jihoon to his appointment. It was good of you to step in. I…I didn’t _mean_ to forget, I just had so much shit to deal with and by the time I checked my phone I—” He cuts himself off abruptly, leaning back, his fingers wrapped over the edge of the counter, his shoulders tight and bunched. “Anyway, thank you…I owe you one.”

Seungcheol’s honestly surprised he got even _that_ much out of him. Woozi’s been all insistent distance since he moved in—this far, no farther, and Seungcheol has never figured out how to worm his way inside those lines.

“Hey, no, it’s fine. I was happy to take him.” Seungcheol says, scratching the side of his nose. “We got pithpathio ithe-cweam.”

Woozi laughs out loud at that, then quickly tapers off into a quieter giggle. It’s a nice laugh. Sweet. Seungcheol thinks he can get used to hearing him laugh more, and in his well-meaning simplicity, says as much.

It earns him a smile, which just as quickly morphs into something pensive. Woozi clearly has more he wants to say, but the kitchen area’s too small for him to pace or whatever he has in mind, so they just end up leaning against the counter, staring at each other.

“Woozi…” Seungcheol starts, because it had to come up eventually, “I don’t think Sehun is a…I don’t think he’s _right_ for you.”

A tiny muscle in Woozi's jaw flexes a little, but his answer is almost immediate.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s really none of your business.”

Seungcheol nods and shuts his mouth, because, well, it _isn’t_.

* * *

It _becomes_ his business three months later, when Jihoon calls him at work, crying and frantic and not making much sense. It takes Seungcheol a few minutes to calm him down enough to get half the story out of him, because he only _has_ half the story himself.

All he knows is Woozi has been admitted to the Pusan University Hospital earlier with a dislocated knee and a concussion, and as his next of kin, Jihoon has been notified even though he can’t do a damn thing about it right now, seeing as he’s over in Tokyo for the weekend to attend a tech convention.

Seungcheol speaks to his boss and takes some emergency holiday, then heads over to kill a few uncomfortable hours in a waiting room. He’s drinking a cup of tea out of a Styrofoam cup, reading a golf magazine to find out if he cares about golf yet (still no), when a police officer comes by to take a statement and he _finally_ gets the second half of the story.

Apparently someone in a jealous fit, Seungcheol can guess who, hacked Woozi’s OnlyFans page a few weeks back and leaked his private information online, including his real name and where he works. The breach hadn’t succeeded in its original goal to teach him a lesson and have him fired, not at first, but it _did_ succeed in encouraging an overzealous stalker to show up to his workplace and harass him, which _then_ got him fired. The subsequent argument that broke out resulted in said stalker pushing Woozi down a flight of stairs at the subway station. 

“You didn’t have to come,” Woozi slurs, when Seungcheol’s finally allowed to see him.

He’s sitting upright in the hospital bed even though he’s half awake, still doped to the gills on painkillers. Seungcheol’s got his fifth cup of tea cooling in one hand, just about to say—something, anyway. He hadn’t really planned anything out. He’d just wanted to see Woozi as soon as possible—was relieved to know he was going to be okay, that he can finally let Jihoon know he was going to be okay—and now he’s just floored by the sheer self-deprecation in that tone.

Like Woozi blames _himself_ for getting attacked. 

“Yes, I _did_. Of course, I did.” Seungcheol says, actually coming into the room.

Up close, Woozi’s arms, his throat, are covered in scrapes and heavy bruises; his knee is a thick bandaged lump underneath the blankets. Seungcheol takes it all in, then drops his gaze to the floor, feels the words he’s been wanting to say for months now build painfully in his throat.

“I know you said it wasn’t my business, but this isn’t right Uji. You—you _deserve_ better.” He says, voice rough.

Woozi sighs and says nothing. When Seungcheol flicks his gaze up, he’s got his head tipped back against the headboard, staring tiredly at the ceiling. He looks like he might cry, or laugh. It’s a weird expression, anyway. It makes Seungcheol feel kind of weird, too. Like something is capsizing in his chest.

“Yeah, well—” Woozi finally mumbles, letting his gaze drop to his bandaged knee, “It’s definitely over now.”

 _Yeah, but for how long?—_ Seungcheol is tempted to say, but as satisfying as driving that point home will be, it’s not what Woozi needs to hear right now. He looks like shit, probably feels ten times worse, and the best thing Seungcheol can do for him is to get him home and into his comfort zone as soon as possible.

He looks so vulnerable by the time Seungcheol gets him into the apartment, very pale, shivering in Seungcheol’s heavy jacket even though it’s a warmish night and Seungcheol’s in a thin shirt. He doesn’t even protest when Seungcheol takes the crutches away and carries him into his bedroom, but he looks tons better after a few painkillers and a nap, eating udon noodles out of the plastic container on the couch, with his knee carefully cushioned.

They’re watching one of the Star Wars movies—Seungcheol’s not sure which one, he’s not really paying attention, and last he checked there was 400 of them—when someone starts buzzing the doorbell urgently.

It can’t be Jihoon, he knows, because even though Jihoon manages to lock himself out of the apartment every other week, he’s currently in Haneda airport, on standby for a flight home. So it could only be Sehun—coming over to grovel in apology and beg Woozi to take him back. Or, more likely, to recite some poetry and perform some apologetic interpretive dance.

Whatever—Seungcheol’s officially sick of this bullshit. Which is why he answers the door, then blocks Sehun from entering. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Sehun gives him a look over the top of his sunglasses. His eyes are bloodshot.

“To see Woozi.”

Seungcheol has to laugh, then he has to block Sehun from trying to slip past him with a pointed shove, “You’re shitting me, right? You _actually_ think I’m going to let you see him after the shit you pulled?”

Sehun steps back, looking slightly apprehensive, then scoffs, giving him one incredulous— _that’s a fucking once over_ , Seungcheol thinks.

“Who made you gatekeeper? You think just because you live with my boyfriend, you’re _friends_ with him or something? You’re not his friend, you haven’t got the right to stop me from seeing him—you’re just the meathead he lives with.”

“Meathead huh?” Seungcheol echoes, tilting his head curiously.

He would never have labelled himself as a meathead; he doesn’t like to use his brute size to get his own way, but he has to admit, it has been remarkable effective when he does. Perhaps he needs to stop trying to be a reasonable person and just be the guy everyone _thinks_ he is. If everyone’s going to misjudge him anyway, he might as well just be the _best_ meathead he can be.

Really _own_ it.

“Fair enough,” He says, then clocks Sehun right in the jaw. 

Sehun goes sprawling on the floor, in an overly dramatic, _artistic_ stretch. It almost looks like he’s attempting another one of his interpretive dances, flailing around like that, groaning, which is annoying enough that Seungcheol is tempted to punch him again. But one of their elderly neighbours, Mrs Kim, has opened her apartment door to rubberneck now, so instead he just steps over Sehun’s sprawled form, and stares down into his face, smiling.

“You were right—I _am_ a meathead. So believe me when I say, if you come back here, I will kick you down every flight of stairs in this fucking building, then I’m going to carry you up in the elevator and do it all over again. Are we clear?”

Sehun groans something incomprehensible. Ayn Rand probably. Whatever—Seungcheol doesn’t wait around to watch him drag his sorry ass away. He just waves at Mrs Kim and heads back inside, locks the door behind him.

The hallway between the front door and the living area is too short to pretend like Woozi won’t have heard what’s just gone down, and sure enough, when Seungcheol pads back into the living area, Woozi’s staring at him, head poking up over the back of the couch like a little Meerkat, and about as wide eyed as one too.

Seungcheol’s half expecting him to say something snarky, another _‘mind your own business’_ or maybe even a _‘who gave you the right’_. But even as he retakes his seat on the other side of the couch, there isn’t a single peep out of him.

Seungcheol stares unseeingly at the TV screen for a while, so he doesn’t have to look at Woozi’s face. After a minute, he notices the hitched little sobs Woozi’s trying so hard to keep to himself and practically catapults himself over, whispering, “Hey, hey—it’s okay,”

He’s seen Jihoon get teary eyed when he stubs his toe, or when someone drinks the last cola, and even when ineffectual characters die in Game of Thrones, but he has never once seen Woozi so much as sniffle in the last seven months, and now he has no fucking idea what to do. 

He settles for what comes naturally, scooping Woozi into his arms and into one of those hugs that are usually effective in soothing Jihoon, and it…kind of works?

Woozi doesn’t stop crying exactly, but he does start talking. Just babbling at first, then his breathing evens out and he starts making sense, talking about how scared he is, how miserable he was with Sehun, but how much his life has changed since his injury, since he had to stop dancing, and he just wanted to cling on to the last thing that connected him to it.

That saddest thing is he talks about how _guilty_ he feels, because Jihoon’s salary is pretty much what keeps them afloat, and he knows no matter how hard he works, he doesn’t think he can ever pay him back. Even when Jihoon laughs it off, says it’s nothing, the guilt is still there.

Seungcheol does his best to say the right things at the right time, to give assurances, but he knows sometimes people just need someone to listen when they emote, to hold them while they do it. And it must help, because even though Woozi’s still clinging to him, still tearing up, he has this amazing look on his face the whole time, like he is... calm.

It’s weird, Seungcheol thinks, how you can get to know a guy pretty well and never realize that he was… holding back, or containing something, or suppressing something? Until he isn’t. It’s a wonderful feeling, being around to watch Woozi break apart, to help him put the pieces back together.

“Please don’t tell Jihoon I cried.” Woozi murmurs, a while later when he’s stopped sniffling, but still curled up in Seungcheol’s lap.

Seungcheol’s pulls him to rest more comfortably in the bend of his arm, plants a kiss on the top of his head, “I won’t.”

Jihoon arrives a little after midnight, looking dead on his feet, wearing a t-shirt with a marshmallow on it and a hoodie that Seungcheol is pretty sure might belong to him. He crawls onto the couch right next to his brother and whispers how sorry he is that he couldn’t have been here sooner.

Woozi smiles at him, bleary eyed, then his eyes narrow analytically, “Hoonie…where’s your luggage?”

The sudden wide-eyed expression on Jihoon’s face is both self-explanatory and the funniest shit ever. Seungcheol’s still laughing about it the next morning while he’s on the phone to the hotel, arranging for all Jihoon’s stuff to be shipped over.

* * *

With Sehun permanently out of the picture, and Woozi in a much better headspace, they all naturally settle into a nice little routine of sorts, one that means spending a lot more time together.

Seungcheol still does his own thing, _occasionally_ ; still visits his parents, his brother, meets up with old friends, still grabs drinks with a few guys from work—but if it’s ever just him by himself doing something, more often than not, the twins will want to come along too.

They’ll go with him to the gym; Woozi so he can do the recommended PT exercises for his knee, and Jihoon so he can float in the jacuzzi until he turns into a tiny prune. And when he gets tickets for a football match, they’re excited to tag along, dressed in his too large jerseys for the occasion, and he’ll buy them each a foam finger and all the snacks, and they’ll cheer at the completely wrong time. It’s adorable.

They eat dinner together most evenings too, whether they eat out, or order in, or tackle a home cooked recipe where everyone chips in, and on the weekends when they’re all free, they make a point of doing something fun. Trips to the beach, concerts, karaoke nights…helping Jihoon build a 10000 piece Millennium Falcon Lego set, which no—never again.

There were Lego pieces _everywhere_.

Places Lego pieces had no right to be.

There was a Lego piece in the _toilet bowl_ for fuck’s sake—the implications of which don’t bear thinking about. 

Then Seungcheol wakes up one Saturday morning, to sound of excited whispering and the smell of something burning, pads down the corridor and—“Happy Birthday Cheollie!”—shits a brick. (Not Lego related incidentally.)

“I—what? How did—” Is all he manages to say, before he’s being tinyman-handled over to the breakfast bar and shoved into a stool.

The kitchen is a fucking _mess_ , but one square foot of the breakfast bar has been cleared and nicely decorated with balloons and banners and presents, and a place card that reads: Birthday Boy.

“How did you guys know?” He asks, because until ten seconds ago, he didn’t know himself.

“Oh, c’mon Cheol,” Woozi snorts, giving his shoulders a squeeze, “You didn’t _actually_ think we’d forget your birthday.”

Seungcheol shrugs, “I did. I honestly can’t remember the last time I celebrated my birthday.”

“Aww, well, we’re celebrating it today,” Woozi says—the ‘ _whether you like it or not’_ goes unsaid but is heavily implied in the way he’s aggressively wrestling a party hat on Seungcheol’s head. 

“And we made you Birthday pancakes.” Jihoon chirps, setting a plate down in front of him. It’s covered with a napkin.

Seungcheol suppresses a dubious laugh, “Birthday pancakes huh?”

“Please don’t get your hopes up,” Woozi says, something wry and soft in his voice as he pours out a glass of orange juice. “I argued that we should take you out for breakfast, but this dork said you’d appreciate it a lot more if we _made_ it ourselves.”

Jihoon pouts at his brother, then lifts the napkin to reveal some very lovely looking, and surprisingly unburnt, butt shaped, blueberry pancakes.

“They’re…they’re supposed to be hearts.” He murmurs. “But the skillet was too hot and by the time I dolloped the second half of the heart, the first half had started to cook and the batter settled to look like a butt cleft, and now they look like tiny butts. But…they’re…they’re hearts. We made you hard shaped pancakes, because we—”

“Oh my god,” Woozi throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “We get it okay. Let him eat!”

Seungcheol does eat his pancakes, and opens his presents, and has a little panic attack because Woozi thought it would be funny to hide his _real_ present inside the box of the Millennium Falcon Lego set, and by the end of it, he’s a little choked up with emotion. 

“You guys, this is all so unexpected, and so sweet. Thank—”

“Woah, hey—It’s not over yet.” Woozi cuts in, horrified.

“It isn’t?”

The twins exchange a _look_.

“You don’t really think we’d _just_ make you pancakes for your birthday, did you?” Woozi laughs. “It’s 9.30 am Cheol. It’s just the start of the day, and we’ve got a whole _day_ of birthday fun planned for you. Pancakes was just the _beginning_.”

“Two whole days actually!” Jihoon chimes in. He is practically dancing with glee.

“W-what? What do you mean, two days?” Seungcheol asks, which prompts Jihoon and Woozi to produce their _itinerary_.

It seems that by two days, what they really mean is, two separate _schedules_ for how the birthday fun will proceed, because of course they couldn’t agree on what stuff Seungcheol would enjoy the most, so they each planned out their ideal day so Seungcheol can pick for himself.

And to be fair, they both seem equally fun.

Jihoon’s planned to take him to the Aquarium to see this cool new underwater performance, followed by a bike ride to the Samnak Ecological Park, where they’ll have a birthday picnic and enjoy the Kite festival. Then he wants them to stop at this new pizzeria in Jung-gu, grab dinner and head home for a movie marathon night. Whereas Woozi wants to start the day off at the beach, before they head over to this hip new French bistro for brunch. From there, they’ll head to Centum City for some retail torture, before returning home to get showered and changed for a night of bar crawling, that will start at some rooftop bar that’s all over his Instagram, and will end at club Kudeta in Haeundae.

Seungcheol contemplates both options for a good ten minutes, before determining there is only one sensible way forward that will spare everyone’s feelings.

“Let’s do it all.”

There’s a stunned expression on the twins faces now, one that slowly, carefully, morphs into incredulous delight. Clearly the idea of doing _all the things_ never occurred to them until now.

“Really?”

Seungcheol shrugs, “Yeah, why not. It’s a Saturday. We have time. Let’s do all the things.”

* * *

This is why, fifteen hours later, Seungcheol finds himself propped up against the bar, writing out his will on the back of a napkin and wondering if he has time to call his family before he drops down dead.

Seriously though, he’s fucking wrecked. _Wrecked_.

It shouldn’t have been humanly possible to do everything on those lists, but they did, and every muscle in his body is paying the price now.

It probably didn’t help that he insisted on doing all the heavy lifting. Lifting Jihoon on his shoulders at the beach, carrying the bags when they went shopping, and doing 100% of the cycling when they hired the three-person tandem.

It was ridiculous levels of fun, sure, but now he needs to lie down somewhere and possibly never get up again. Which is a real shame, because he’s kind of missing out on what’s possibly the most entertaining aspect of the entire day: watching Jihoon and Woozi move on the dancefloor.

They’re… _cute_ , is probably the safest way to describe them. They’re not dancing with anyone really, just dancing together, each moving in their own unique way. Woozi a little more effortless, Jihoon a little more enthusiastic. But cute. Both—

“Which one’s yours?”

Seungcheol jerks his attention away from the twins towards the guy that’s suddenly appeared at his elbow. He has open brown eyes and a cheerful smile, and a side parting that immediately puts Seungcheol in mind of a door-to-door salesman.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy who sold me a juicer once? If so, I want my money back. It was not a cost- effective alternative to buying juice from the store. I went through a whole bag of oranges once and got a thimble full of juice. A _thimble_.”

The guy shifts back a little, looking nervous now, but there’s a guy standing behind who’s obviously playing wing man for the night, and steps forward to reiterate, “My buddy here’s just trying to figure out which one of those guys is your boyfriend, so you don’t kick his ass when he makes a move.” He grins, gaze sliding past Seungcheol’s shoulder.

Seungcheol doesn’t have to turn his head to know what he’s looking at; the Lee twins have had eyes on them all night. 

For a hot second, he considers just kicking the guy’s ass anyway. Maybe his friend’s too. But no—that’s not cool. They just asked a question, a curtesy most guys wouldn’t bother with, and it’s not Seungcheol’s place to play protective boyfriend here.

Jihoon and Woozi _are_ single, and if someone wants to try their luck, he has no reason to get in the way. He’s just not sure if he should lie and shield Jihoon, who’s so shy about dating he tends to play possum whenever a stranger gives him the _slightest_ bit of attention, or lie and shield Woozi, who’s still pretty raw about the whole shitty ex situation he’s taking a break from dating until the new year. He knows what he’d _like_ to say— _they’re both mine, fuck off_ —except there’s no way anyone would believe that, so in the end, he just settles for the sad truth.

“I’m not dating either of them. They’re just my housemates.”

The dude’s eyebrows twitch up toward his hairline, and then he grins and high-fives his buddy, and beings to saunter over, and Seungcheol immediately regrets not lying anyway. This greedy SOB is clearly planning to have his cake and eat it.

Except he doesn’t even get within a five-meter radius of the twins before Woozi stops dancing, stands in front of his brother, and proceeds to shoot lasers out of his eyes. Seriously, his glare is a live, angry thing.

Seungcheol struggles to hear the ensuing conversation over the thumping of the music, but he just about makes out the, _“We’re with someone,”_ and the answering, “ _that’s not what he said,”_ followed by the scathing, “ _Go away. We’re not interested.”_

Door-to-door salesman is starting to look seriously offended now, and just as Seungcheol’s beginning to think he’ll have to step in here, the dude just shrugs it off and walks away. Message received apparently.

 _Good_ —Seungcheol sighs, settling back in his place against the bar.

The twins don’t go back to their dancing though.

After the guy walks off, the start talking to each other in very low voices, darting glances in Seungcheol’s direction every few seconds. As Seungcheol watches, Jihoon leans in and whispers something in Woozi’s ear. Something that makes his eyes go wide. He jerks his head back, shakes it, says no, _no Jihoon_. Then _no_ again. Jihoon seems pretty beat up about this and pouts at him, then drops his gaze to the floor, and then Woozi’s grabbing his wrist and dragging him off the dance floor towards Seungcheol.

“Hey, you ready to head out? We’re pretty beat.”

“Uh—” Seungcheol glances between them, wondering what the hell that was about, “Sure.”

Whatever it is, they don’t bring it up while they’re queuing at the coat-check, or when they step outside to hail a cab, so it’s probably nothing. 

They’re in the back of the cab two minutes when Seungcheol feels a weight settle on his right shoulder—then before he can turn his head, a matching weight settles on his left. He breathes out a quiet laugh and carefully edges his arms back, looping one around each twin so he can tuck them closer against his chest.

He’s going to have to wake them up in less than twenty minutes anyway, but at least they’re more comfortable this way.

“Lucky guy.” The cab driver chuckles, meeting his eyes briefly in the rear-view mirror.

Seungcheol flashes him a smile, “I know.”

* * *

**Two weeks later…**

Seungcheol gets home twenty minutes early; lighter traffic than normal, and unlocks the door to hear, “Oh, uh, is that the time? We should probably get going—we don’t want to miss our reservations.”

When he pads into the living area, he spots two new faces sitting on the couch across from Woozi and Jihoon. Or, really, just _one_ new face, but on two separate bodies.

So, yeah—another set of twins are chilling in his apartment, because clearly his life wasn’t confusing _enough_.

“Hey Cheollie,” Jihoon murmurs when he sees him. He’s looking sort of sad, sitting on the far couch with his knees drawn up, his cheek resting against one of them. The new twin that’s been trying to talk to him shifts around quickly. He’s tall and solid, with shaggy dark hair and full lips, and his eyes get big as he takes Seungcheol in.

“Oh, hey Seungcheol,” Woozi says, attempting a casual wave and missing by a mile. “Uhh, meet Junsu and Junho—guys, this is Seungcheol our housemate.”

Junsu—or twin number two—turns his gaze to Seungcheol and flashes an automatic smile, which quickly freezes.

“Hey,” Seungcheol nods, holds up a hand, taking in everyone’s stiff, uncomfortable, awkward expressions—the drinks sweating on the coffee table, the snacks sitting alongside, the way everyone’s weirdly dressed up for a Wednesday evening.

Wait…

It takes him a moment too long to realise he’s just walked in on what appears to be the pre-drinks segment of a double date. A double date with _twins_. Twins x Twins = 2Twins. Or would TwinsTwins be more accurate? If the evening goes well, it might even be twins/twins…

Okay, he needs to stop doing maths and get _out_ of there.

“Uh, well—great meeting you guys. Have a nice evening.” He says, managing a swift exit before things get truly awkward.

He’s barely closed the bedroom door behind him before there’s a quiet knock, and he’s opening it again to see Jihoon standing there, dimpling sweetly at him. 

“Hi… Can I hide in your room?”

“Hide?” Seungcheol laughs doubtfully, “Uh, what about your date?”

Jihoon pouts at him, “He’s _not_ my date. Woozi set us up with those guys, but I never agreed to any of it. I don’t want to date either of them.”

 _Ah_ —Seungcheol thinks, inviting Jihoon in and watching him leap excitedly onto the bed. That explains why he looked so miserable earlier, and possibly why he’s dressed a lot more _provocatively_ than usual. Woozi’s obviously tricked him into putting on some makeup, maybe even bullied him into trying one of his own outfits— _‘We’ll go to that dorky science exhibition you wanted to see’_ , he said, probably, then pulled the double date idea on him at the last second, knowing full well Jihoon would make zero effort is he had any forewarning.

“I get why you’d prefer to be in here Hoonie,” Seungcheol says, working on loosening his tie, “But uh, don’t you wanna give Uji some emotional support or something? Even if you’re not interested in dating those guys, you could still play wing-man for the night so Uji can enjoy his date.”

Jihoon sits up, shoots him an incredulous look, “No, don’t you get it? Woozi doesn’t want to date them _either_.”

“Hmm—” Seungcheol clucks his tongue, “Then why did he set you guys up?”

Jihoon throws his hands up, like it’s obvious, “Because he’s trying to distract me, obviously.”

“Distract you from what?”

Another knock on the door interrupts them right then, and before Seungcheol can answer, Woozi’s poking his head in.

"Hoonie! There you are," He says, sounding like Cruella De Vil after hunting down a lost puppy. “Won’t you come on out? Jinho’s getting kind of lonely out there.”

Jihoon stares at him balefully, “Who the hell is _Jinho_? It’s Junho and Junso, you _looser_. You’re trying to make out you’re _so_ into them, and you can’t even remember their names. Just give up Uji, it’s not going to work.”

Woozi steps away from the door, twisting his fingers around each other.

“Jihoon, you can’t—” He stops, darting an anxious look at Seungcheol, as if his very presence requires him to re-think what he'd been about to say. “We _talked_ about this Hoonie.” He hisses at last. “We had an _agreement_.”

“Uh, no, we didn’t.” Jihoon spits, with surprising venom. “That is not what we talked about at all. We didn’t _talk_ about setting me up on a date. I didn’t want that, and you can’t just make decisions like that for me. Are you forgetting I’m older than you? Because I am—by a whole ten minutes!”

Woozi takes another step forward, light tension has begun to coil through his body. “I don’t care—you’re still a giant baby. Now get out there right now and start socialising or I swear to _god_.”

Jihoon swallows, but Seungcheol has to hand it to him, for once he actually sticks to his guns.

“No,” He stops his foot. “Go away.”

Woozi rears back, gasping.

He’s so aghast, he even brings a hand up to cover his mouth, _like he never in twenty three years!_ And, okay, fair enough, it’s a pretty unprecedented reaction from Jihoon. Jihoon never says no to his brother. Ever. But he’s saying no now, so maybe the amateur theatrics are called for.

What isn’t called for, is the way Woozi immediately recovers from his shock and begins to chase Jihoon around the room, and since Seungcheol’s standing in the middle of it and sort of in the way, chasing him around Seungcheol too. In never ending circles of ‘come here’ and ‘no!’.

Seungcheol gives up trying to stop them after a few minutes and starts undressing—they’ll tire themselves out eventually, he figures. Or maybe Junho and Junso will come looking for them, join in on the chasing fun.

He balls up his tie and sets it aside, narrowly avoiding an elbow in the gut from Jihoon, then he drags his shirt over his head and flexes his shoulders and—the twins just come to an abrupt stop, standing on either side of him.

He can’t see the expression on Jihoon’s face because he’s stopped behind him, but Woozi’s standing right in front and he’s staring at his naked chest, a little wide eyed. His whole face flushes up, a tendon jumping in his throat, before he runs out of the room like his ass is on fire.

“Uhm—” Seungcheol turns, scratching his head, “Did I do something wrong?”

Jihoon’s looking a little flustered too. The bridge of his nose is just slightly pink, and there is a little grin wiggling around his face like it can't decide if it wants to be seen or not. “Nope.”

“Right, well—imma grab a shower,” Seungcheol says, then pats him on the head and heads into the bathroom.

When he comes back out, his bedroom is empty and the apartment is deathly quiet. They’ve gone out for their double date, he guesses, and has half a second to wonder what he’ll cook himself for dinner before he pads down the corridor and finds them sitting together on the couch, dates gone, speaking in hushed whispers.

“You’re not allowed to just _change_ the rules Jihoon,” Woozi is hissing, just loud enough for him to hear, “We’ve got a _good_ thing going here, and you’re…you’re going to ruin it. Don’t you like things the way they are?”

Jihoon’s already shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest, “No. The rules are stupid and you know it.”

They both clam up when Seungcheol approaches, which compels him to tease, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you guys were talking about me.”

Almost immediately, Jihoon starts fidgeting with a loose shirt button, while Woozi’s eyes dart uncomfortably past Seungcheol’s and— _okay_ , maybe he just hit the nail on the head there.

What nail, and what it _means_ , he has no fucking clue, so he quickly changes the subject.

“Uh…have you guys eaten?”

They both shake their heads.

“Are you hungry?”

The twins nod in tandem, then Jihoon whizzes down the corridor and returns clutching an open recipe book with a page folded down.

“Chilli?” Seungcheol says, checking through the ingredients to confirm they have everything they needs, “Ooh, good choice Hoonie.”

Jihoon smiles impishly and readily volunteers to take on chopping duties. Woozi pads over a few minutes later, still sulking, but clearly expecting to lend a hand. Seungcheol gets him started on deseeding chilis while he starts browning the mince. 

By the time Seungcheol’s ladling the chili into three bowls and prepping their favourite toppings—guacamole and salsa for Woozi, sour cream and shredded cheese for Jihoon—the twins are standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching him so intently, he feels like a contestant on fucking _MasterChef._

Seriously—he’s starting to second guess his presentation skills now, wondering if he should chop some parsley, as garnish or something.

Then Woozi turns to his brother, takes a deep breath and says, “Okay.”

“R-really?” Jihoon says, inexplicably breathless with excitement.

Woozi nods and holds up a finger, “But on one condition. Since you’re breaking the rules, I’m allowed to break them too.”

Jihoon seems less enthused about that, whatever it is, and scowls openly at his brother, who scowls _back_. 

Seungcheol has absolutely no idea what’s going on, or why they’re suddenly glaring daggers at each other, but he’s compelled to interrupt and say, “C’mon you guys. There’s enough chilli for everyone.”


	2. Double the love, double the trouble

On Friday, the world tries its level best to sweep humanity away in a terrible flood. Or at least, that's what it feels like to Seungcheol as he’s making his way home after work.

He double parks outside the laundromat to grab his dry cleaning, hoping to avoid the worst of the rain with a mad dash across the sidewalk, but it’s falling so heavy and so fast that he can't see more than a foot in front of him. There's water running through the gutters almost ankle deep in rushing streams, and by the time get gets back into the car he’s absolutely soaked. So far beyond wet that when he finally reaches the front door of the apartment, he's not entirely sure he's going to be able to get his key in the lock.

Though that apparently doesn't matter, because he barely has it half raised before someone yanks the door open anyway.

Seungcheol squints curiously at the sight of Jihoon's narrow frame blocking the doorway between the rivulets of rainwater coming out of his hair and eyelashes.

He was beginning to think the concept of leaving the comfort of the couch to open doors for people was a skill Jihoon hadn't mastered yet. It always seemed to be one of those things _other_ people were for, primarily Seungcheol himself. But it seems Jihoon's picked up the skill sometime in the last 48 hours because here he is, answering doors like a fucking pro, and looking enviously dry in comparison.

In fact, judging by his freshly dyed black hair, bare feet and the fact that he's wearing his second favourite Metallica T-shirt, he hasn't ventured out at _all_ today. He's probably spent most of the day sprawled on the couch, watching things he hated on TV because he couldn't be bothered to lift the remote and change the channel.

"You're late," Jihoon huffs. Which might, if stretched a little, be Jihoon speak for _'I was worried'_ , or it might just as likely be Jihoon speak for _'I need you to reach something on a high shelf.'_

Seungcheol can't really see his watch beneath the mess of water and sleeve, but he thinks it's about six thirty.

"Not by much,” He argues, then something occurs to him. “Wait...have you been _waiting_ for me to come home?”

Jihoon blushes, a startling rush of red rising to the tips of his ears. It appears he _has_ been waiting for Seungcheol, and right by the door too, which suggests he has missed Seungcheol dearly and couldn’t wait to see him again.

_Aww._

Or, just maybe, he’s had another fight with Woozi.

Seungcheol weighs the likelihood of both options and decides, “What did you and Woozi fight about this time?”

Jihoon huffs something that admits to nothing and moves back so Seungcheol can step inside.

"Let me guess," Seungcheol says, carefully pushing off his soaking wet jacket and shaking it, hard enough for Jihoon to draw back a step and pull a face. "He drank your last cola.”

“No.”

“He sat in your favourite spot on the couch.” He offers next, because, well, it’s a _regular_ issue.

Jihoon shakes his head. “No.”

Seungcheol purses his lips in thought, then winces. “Oh no. Did he sit on your head and fart again?”

Jihoon frowns. “Don’t remind me.”

Seungcheol shakes his head and hangs up his jacket. “So what _did_ he do?”

Jihoon pouts, he honest-to-god pouts, “He’s trying to steal my big idea.”

“Of course, he is.” Seungcheol smiles warmly and ruffles the top of Jihoon’s hair.

He squidges his way into the apartment proper, nods a greeting at Woozi lounging on the couch, and heads straight for his room, more than aware that he's trailing water and everything he's wearing is stuck flat to him. Jihoon follows him, quietly complaining about his twin all the way. When Seungcheol pointedly walks him outside his bedroom door again and then shuts it, he continues his complaining through the wood at a _slightly louder volume._

"It was my idea first!” He whines. “But he said it was his and then he said I was too chicken to go through with it anyway, so I might as well not bother having good ideas."

Seungcheol peels off his waistcoat and shirt and drops them in a soggy heap, leaving sad dribbles of water everywhere. "How can you be sure it wasn’t his idea all along? Aren’t twins meant to share some sort of telepathy? Maybe he thought of it first and you just— _read his mind."_

He can practically _feel_ Jihoon pouting at him through the door. Then there's a sigh which doesn't forgive him in the slightest. " _No_ , Seungcheol, it was _my_ idea. When we were out celebrating your birthday, I told him about it. But now _he’s_ trying to take credit for it. Pretending like he’s been thinking the same thing all along, but just hadn’t shared it out loud yet.”

Seungcheol's pants and boxers come off in a handful of very unpleasant shoves. He really is soaked all the way through. “Well, can’t you _share_ the idea? All good ideas should be shared.”

There's a thud and Seungcheol knows Jihoon has just leant back against his door, probably in some overly dramatic pose that's currently completely wasted on him.

“We can’t _share_ this. And you know we’re shit at sharing things. Besides, this idea—it’s not exactly _sharable_. It would be too… _weird_."

"Why's that?" Seungcheol's curious enough to ask. "What even _is_ this idea anyway?"

For a long moment, there's nothing but silence from the other side of the door. In fact, Jihoon's silent for so long Seungcheol begins to think he's given up whining to him and walked off. Then:

"I...I can't tell you. I'm still kind of... _working_ on it."

It should be impossible to tell without opening the door and checking for himself, but Seungcheol is 100% certain Jihoon's _blushing_ again. 

"Okay," He drags the word out thoughtfully, all the while digging for a clean t-shirt and failing to find one. "Then I don't really know how I can help you Hoonie. I mean, I get that you're frustrated, I do, but if you can't _tell_ me what this is all about, then I'm not sure what you expect me to do?"

“I don't expect you to do anything," Jihoon murmurs, sounding unbearably glum. "I guess I just wanted you to know it was my idea first, before Woozi _ruins_ everything.” 

Seungcheol not entirely sure what one has to do with the other, but he's too busy trying to find a pair of clean jeans to fully dedicate himself to the conversation. 

"You know, I'm surprised you left your brother alone with your laptop running out there. He could be doing _anything_ to it."

More silence from the other side of the door—and then, the sound of bare feet pattering down the corridor.

“Woozi you better not have touched my laptop!” Jihoon yells elsewhere in the apartment.

Seungcheol shakes his head and finishes getting changed in peace.

* * *

When he's semi-dry and dressed again, he throws his wet clothes in the hamper and grabs a towel to dry his hair as he heads towards the living area.

He looks ridiculous, he knows; hair sticking up in seven different directions, biceps straining in an old college t-shirt that's a few sizes too small, but he's currently too tired and hungry to give a shit. He just wants a pizza and a beer, maybe even a back rub if one of the twins is feeling _charitable._ Though all thoughts of himself are immediately shelved the second he steps into the room.

Jihoon and Woozi are sitting there, eerily silent, eyeing each other from opposite couches like jungle cats trying to decide the best time to go for the throat.

"Uh...who wants pizza?" Seungcheol offers, to break the tension if nothing else.

"Me," Jihoon says without looking up.

" _Uji_?" Seungcheol prompts.

Woozi turns far enough to look at him, mouth stretching slowly into a smile. "Thanks, Cheol, that would be awesome. Hey, you know... you’re looking kind of cute today. I mean, you like cute every day, of course, but…have you like...done something new with your hair?"

“Uh… _no_?” Seungcheol runs a hand though his damp hair in the vain hope of leaving it something that isn't the latest in 'escaped mental patient.'

“Woozi, cut it out.” Jihoon snaps before Seungcheol can even begin to formulate a response to Woozi’s uncharacteristic friendliness. And then Woozi and Jihoon are exchanging one of those weird looks—the kind where Jihoon’s eyes are wide and obviously trying to tell him something, except Woozi doesn’t know what his brother is trying to say. Or maybe he just doesn’t care.

“ _Okay_ —” Seungcheol drawls, dividing a look between them. He grabs the phone and hits speed-dial. “The usual, yeah? One pepperoni for Jihoonie, and one spicy chicken for Uji?”

“Yes.” The twins answer simultaneously, resuming their glaring from across the room.

* * *

When the pizzas arrive, Seungcheol hands the twins each one of their own and takes a seat on a random couch. The second his ass hits the cushion the twins are scrambling to sit next to him. There’s a lot of scowling and shoving of pizza boxes and not very much eating of pizza before Seungcheol is forced to scoot over and sit in the middle, a twin at each side.

“What the fuck is up with you guys today?”

“Nothing.” The twins answer in tandem, opening up their pizza boxes.

Seungcheol manages to wolf down three slices, while the twins glare at each other and nibble through their first bite. He tries not to feel apprehensive. He can feel the twin’s eyes on him, the way he's felt their eyes on him for the past hour—like there's some stubborn, secret purpose waiting in the wings.

“Cheol.” Woozi begins with a sly smirk, tapping Seungcheol on the shoulder as he’s about to bite into another slice. “You want to swap slices with me? One of mine for one of yours?”

“Yeah, sure.” Seungcheol nods, sliding a slice of his pepperoni on to Woozi’s box as Woozi passes a slice of Spicy Chicken over to his.

“Cheollie.” Jihoon interrupts his bite this time, patting his other shoulder. “Do you want to swap with me too?”

Seungcheol blinks at him. “But we both have pepperoni Jihoonie.”

Jihoon’s shoulders slump and his bottom lip sticks out, like he’s devastated Seungcheol won’t swap identical pizza slices with him. There's a faint but audible snicker from Seungcheol's left that suggests Woozi is not so secretly pleased.

“But we can totally swap anyway.” Seungcheol says quickly. “Yours looks like it has more pepperoni than mine.”

He reaches over to select a slice from Jihoon’s pizza box, breathing a sigh of relief as Jihoon brightens inexplicably.

Seungcheol’s on his last slice when Jihoon stands up and sets his pizza box down on the coffee table.

“I’m going to get a drink—,” Jihoon announces, gaze drifting from Seungcheol to his twin, and back again. “Would you like one Cheol?”

“Sure.” Seungcheol says around a mouthful of pizza.

“Not if I get him one first!” Woozi declares, springing up from his seat and dashing towards the kitchen.

Jihoon follows, hot on his heels. “Stop stealing my ideas!”

With both pizza boxes discarded, Seungcheol helps himself to a few extra slices.

Whatever they’re arguing about—he should probably stay out of it.

* * *

The following Friday, Seungcheol’s in the kitchen burning his fingers on a bag of microwave popcorn when Woozi slinks up to him.

“Cheollie.” He begins, scuffing his toe against the tile, “There’s a new restaurant opening in town tonight. I thought, you know, maybe we could go check it out?”

“Sounds great,” Seungcheol grins, tipping the popcorn into the large bowl Jihoon’s holding. The shower of popcorn only briefly disguises the scowl on Jihoon’s face. “But—can we order in from there? Cause me and Jihoon are doing stuff tonight.”

Seungcheol watches a flutter of unease pass over Woozi’s face. Jihoon sees it too, and _grins_.

“What stuff?” Woozi murmurs, eyes darting between them.

“You know, online. It’s video game night.” Seungcheol says, shaking the bowl of popcorn.

The relief is palpable on Woozi’s face. “Oh— _video games_.” He intones, then raises a brow at his twin. “ _Seriously_? That’s all you got? You’re going to have to do better than that. _Nerd_.”

Seungcheol blinks at the non-sequitur and Jihoon pouts over his bowl of popcorn.

“What’s wrong with video games? Cheol _likes_ video games.” Jihoon huffs.

Woozi smiles and flaps his hand at Jihoon’s sulking face. “Yeah, yeah, _whatever_. Have fun.” He says it so patronizingly, Seungcheol’s wearily sure Jihoon is going to throw a punch. But instead, Jihoon just sets down his bowl of popcorn and walks right up to his brother’s face.

“Oh, we _will_. We’re going to have lots of fun. Me and _Cheollie_ are going to team up— _together_. Just the two of us, tonight, on the _couch_ , with the lights dimmed. Then we’ll both reach for the bowl of popcorn at the same time and—”

“You know what, that sounds like fun.” Woozi interjects, face suddenly furiously red. “Think I’ll just stay in and play video games with you.” He says, jerking his chin up in challenge.

Jihoon’s grits his teeth. “You can’t! We only have two controllers.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s a third controller under the couch somewhere.” Seungcheol offers, not that anybody is listening to him.

He watches the twins narrow their eyes at each other, and there’s a sudden frisson of energy in the air, entirely different than the tension that filled it a few moments ago. Seungcheol feels confusion mix with dread in his stomach. He might have just helped avert one disaster, but another is in the making.

The twins are now nose-to-nose, glaring at each other from mere inches away.

Seungcheol carefully slides a hand between them, to block their sight of each other. He notes, with no small amount of fondness, they continue to glare _anyway_. He can almost feel the heat of their glares against his palm.

“How about,” He begins in a placating tone. “Woozi fishes the controller from under the couch, Jihoon finishes prepping the snacks, and I go get us food from this new restaurant?” He says cautiously. Just in case he's outvoted. That happens a lot.

Jihoon huffs through his nose, and squints at him. “Fine by me.”

Woozi rolls his head sideways and makes a completely incomprehensible noise in his general direction. “Sounds like fun.”

* * *

“If you’re free later, I was wondering if you could help me take some pictures of my ass.”

Woozi’s timing is _atrocious_. Seungcheol had just taken a sip of coffee and he’s now forced to spit it back out into his mug, a little ungracefully.

“W-wait, what?” He says, coughing and blinking.

“Can you take pictures of my ass?” Woozi repeats, a little impatiently. Then, possibly because Seungcheol’s still eyeballing him, elaborates, “You know, for my _OnlyFans_ page.”

It takes Seungcheol a minute to parse that. Another minute to return his eyeballs safely back into their sockets.

“I uh… didn’t know you were still actively… _doing_ that.”

Woozi spares him only the briefest look before he starts poking at his oatmeal.

“I _did_ take a break for a while—but it was really good money, so I’d like to get into it again. And well, I’ve been told my ass is my best feature, so I need some good shots. Up close ones, you know, without any underwear marring the _view_.” He looks up at Seungcheol then, eyes heavy lidded and a touch of pink on his cheeks, “I’d do it myself, but the angle’s kind of awkward.”

Seungcheol squints at him, trying to decide if his pupils are more dilated than usual. Because he’s obviously on _drugs_. Or—oh shit, maybe _Seungcheol’s_ the one on drugs? Or maybe he’s just asleep, and this is one of those very cool dreams that feel very real at the time. _Too_ real, right up until the moment his pretty housemate asks him to take pictures of his naked ass. 

_Hmm_.

Woozi’s starting to look constipated levels of uncomfortable now. “If you’re not cool with that, I understand. I just—”

“No, no—it’s fine,” Seungcheol says, waving his spoon magnanimously. “I’m totally cool with it. And I’m free whenever you want to do it.” Fuck, fuck—don’t say _do it_. “I mean, whenever you want to take pictures.”

Woozi flashes him a small smile, the heavy-lidded look turning _more_ heavy-lidded. “Great. Thanks Cheol.”

Seungcheol manages to offer a semi-awkward smile back, wondering if there’s a way he can take pictures of Woozi’s ass without sporting a hard-on, until the clatter of a spoon falling on the table draws his attention over to Jihoon, covered in Fruit Loops on the other side of the table. He seems just as stunned by their plan for the day as Seungcheol is. Perhaps more so, if his adorable little frowny face is anything to go by.

“What about me?” He asks, sounding pathetic and wounded. “Who’s going to take pictures of my butt?”

“Oh please,” Woozi scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Why would _you_ need pictures of your ass?”

Jihoon blinks at him, hurt. He flicks a fruit loop off his shirt, “I…I dunno, it sounds like fun. Maybe I could start an OnlyFans account too. It…it might help give me a confidence boost, you know, when I post a picture and people say nice things about it.” Then he gives Seungcheol a sweetly hopeful look, “Will you take pictures of my butt too Cheollie?”

“Sure.” Seungcheol says affably, because he’s now convinced this is all some weird dream.

There’s no way this conversation can be happening in real life. Twice. He’s _got_ to be dreaming, and any minute now he’s going to wake up, at his desk in work, and find out he’s been fired for sleeping on the job. Damn.

Oh well. He should probably enjoy this crazy fantasy while he can.

“Where do you want them taken Hoonie? My room? Your room? Personally, I think the kitchen has better light.”

“Hold up!” Woozi squawks, flailing, “You can’t be serious Cheol. You’re not actually going to take naked pictures of him, are you?”

Seungcheol shrugs, “Why not? I’m taking pictures for _you_.”

“Yeah but, that’s—that’s totally different!” There's a certain amount of strangled frustration under the words, as if this is not at all going how Woozi expected.

“No, it’s not!” Jihoon pipes in, pouting now. “Your butt’s online, I want my butt online too. It’s only fair.”

Woozi makes a rude noise and swivels his head towards his brother, “Fine. Go ahead. Open an account, see if I care. It makes no difference to me because nobody’s going to pay to look at pictures of _your_ ass Jihoon. They wouldn’t even want them for _free_.”

Jihoon slowly and obviously folds in on himself as Woozi talks and that—that is unacceptable.

Seungcheol’s spoon clanks loudly against his bowl.

“Hey—” He barks, making Woozi jerk out of his best Regina George impression in surprise, “ _Don’t_ be a dick to your brother. If he wants to post ass pics online to build his confidence, you should be supporting him, not bringing him down. He has a sweet little ass, and he should be allowed to share it with the world.”

Jihoon makes a noise of surprise at that, and when Seungcheol glances over, he’s looking so happy, he’s practically vibrating out of his chair with excitement.

“Really? You think I have a sweet ass?”

Seungcheol smiles at him, full of fondness. An odd emotion perhaps, considering the topic on the table. 

“Of course, I do. I’ve always been a massive fan of your ass Jihoon; it’s the sweetest, peachiest ass I’ve ever seen. It’s so perfectly round and deliciously pert, with just the right level of plumpness an ass could ever want. Every guy on that website will be creaming themselves over how curvaceous it is, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. In fact—I’m going to be your very first subscriber.”

“Aw. You’d really do that for me?” Jihoon whispers, staring up at him with his patented _Bambi_ eyes.

“Yep,” Seungcheol grins, “And I’m going to pay extra for a privately commissioned picture too. Even though I’ll probably get to see it when I take the picture anyway, I’ll still happily pay just to see your ass all over again. That’s how truly _amazing_ your ass—”

A door slams loudly somewhere down the corridor. When Seungcheol looks up, he finds Woozi has abandoned his seat and the remains of his breakfast entirely.

Huh.

Okay, so…maybe this wasn’t all just a weird dream. And boy doesn’t that just make everything _weirder_.

* * *

This competitive trend continues unabated, and quickly becomes something Seungcheol can't just shrug off and pretend away. Not when he’s being pulled in two separate directions at the same time by brothers vying for his attention. Brothers who suddenly can't stand it when he divides his time out equally. 

It's crazy. Before this all started, they were happy to do things together, together _with_ Seungcheol—now they will only spend time with him _individually_ , and no amount of mediation on Seungcheol’s part can get them to meet half-way. Jihoon wants Seungcheol to play video games with him and watch movies, while Woozi wants his company to go shopping and attend concerts, and Seungcheol will happily do all those things—he just can’t do them at the _same fucking time._

Seriously, he’s starting to feel like some sort of time share holiday home in _Jeju_. He comes to expect being accosted by the twins as the norm, even while the reason for all this possessiveness continues to be something neither Jihoon nor Woozi want to discuss. It's like there's an elephant in the room, and it's huge and neon and dancing in circles, and Seungcheol's the only one who wants it to _leave._

He doesn't know where the problem started, or why _he_ seems to be the centre of it, but he knows there's only so long they can continue pretending it away.

* * *

Seungcheol’s got a report due on Monday, a really important one for a project he’s been working his ass off all year for. If it goes well, it could lead to a pay rise, or better yet, the promotion to project manager he so desperately wants. He’s already got seven hundred good words down, and he hopes to keep the momentum going while the ideas are fresh.

Of course, the twins have _other_ ideas.

It’s a Saturday, and Saturday’s are their official _‘fight over who spends time with Seungcheol day’_ , and since Seungcheol’s too busy to indulge them today, they’ve found something _else_ to fight over. 

Seungcheol’s not exactly sure _what_. He’s mostly managed to tune out the sound of their bickering because it's not exactly new at this point, and he knows from experience that involving himself in the conversation won't help at all. As long as nothing's on fire or melting when they're finished it counts as a good day. After all, it's not like they're going to come to blows; they’re more likely to seek vengeance by more petty, underhanded means (tampering with each other’s phones, hiding the remote and or replacing the other’s Coca-Cola with some cheap, generic brand.)

Despite all the commotion of the last month, Seungcheol still has no regrets sharing an apartment with the Lee twins because he accepts things could be so much worse. Things _were_ so much worse when he was living with his old housemate who stored bottles of _urine_ (not apple juice) in the fridge, so putting up with a little fraternal bickering is totally manageable in comparison. Manageable as long as _he_ doesn’t get involved.

Seriously, no one in their right mind should get between those two. They'd be crushed within seconds, like atoms in a Supercollider.

“You know what, I don’t care if it was your idea first. It doesn’t mean you get to go _through_ with it.” Woozi snipes, yanking something out of Jihoon’s hand.

“Yes, it does. I called dibs.” Jihoon huffs, trying to wrestle it back. 

“Oh my god, no you _didn’t_. And I am _not_ letting you wear this, _this_ was definitely my idea.”

Seungcheol continues to stare at his laptop and pretends their quiet sniping and their (not even veiled any more, really) insults are background noise. Until:

 _Seungcheol_ ," Jihoon says, strident, wheedling. “Tell Woozi to shut up.”

Seungcheol's actually glad he wasn't paying attention.

"Guys, I don’t want to hear about it. You’re two grown men and you fight over the dumbest of things. You’ve had twenty-three years living together, and if you can’t learn to share with each other by now, than maybe you shouldn’t have… _whatever_ it is you’re fighting about.” He says firmly, then attempts to look very busy in the hopes that they'll forget about him again.

It's all gone suspiciously quiet though—so he risks looking up.

Jihoon and Woozi still seem to be fighting. Which is ridiculous, because they aren't talking, or even looking at each other now. Now they're looking at _him_ instead, with furrowed brows and sulky faces. He frowns and wonders if he should be worried—then promptly worries anyway.

"What?" he demands, when he can't take it anymore.

"Okay," Woozi says quietly.

It's only one word but Jihoon turns his head toward his brother, looks briefly confused, as if Woozi has just rattled off some sort of complicated mathematical formula. But then Woozi raises an eyebrow in Seungcheol's direction, focused, questioning, half a dozen things Seungcheol can't even hope to understand.

Whatever shows on his own face is apparently incriminating because Jihoon blinks like he's genuinely surprised at whatever he finds.

“You heard what Cheollie said, he wants us to _share_ or we can’t have what we want at all.” Woozi says, handing his brother the pink and black department store bag they’ve been fighting over. There’s a sharper edge to his voice now, though. Something calculating and a little bit warm. And there’s a glint in his eyes that, as Seungcheol looks back and forth between them, looks almost like a challenge.

Seungcheol barely has time to worry about exactly what this challenge entails before Jihoon's eyes slide briefly sideways, then he sighs.

"Fine, I guess we can take turns." he says to Woozi, which is totally bewildering.

Seungcheol watches them now, his gaze flicking between them, until they turn around and head down the corridor together.

Well—whatever _that_ was about, he guesses it’s over now.

* * *

It is _not_ over. It is _far_ from over.

Seungcheol has managed to edit a single sentence in his report when the twins come padding back into the room. He looks up from the screen briefly—then he promptly jerks his head back in surprise.

Oh _Christ._

The twins are standing less than a foot away from him, and they’re, they’re….

Seungcheol drags a startled breath and nearly chokes on it when it rattles through his completely dry throat.

"See, I knew he’d be into this.” Woozi says, mouth twisted in a smile that can only describe as _smug_.

Seungcheol can't think of a single thing to say to that. He's too busy trying to keep his eyes from wandering to where they _probably_ shouldn’t be wondering. But there’s just so much to look at, because the twins are almost naked.

Almost.

They might as well be, honestly.

Jihoon’s wearing blue and white stripped stockings to match his pretty boy thong, while Woozi has opted for floral patterned stockings with a black satin trim to match his black panties. Their skin is pale and flawless, smooth and perfect, and when they both tilt their hips deliberately—inviting, _coaxing_ —Seungcheol goes quickly from burgeoning erection to harder than he can stand, faster than he's experienced in years.

“Why, what…Guys?”

His jeans are suddenly far too tight—all hope of accomplishing work-related tasks completely gone. His open laptop hits the floor with a crack. A sound the Lee twins _ignore_ in favour of playing rock-paper-scissors.

“Yes!” Woozi fist pumps the air victoriously as his rock crushes Jihoon’s choice of scissors.

Seungcheol's expecting some sort of angry protest. Jihoon angrily protests everything, doubly so when it comes to Woozi. Instead, Jihoon just sighs and crosses his arms. “Fine—have fun.” He looks downcast until Woozi’s hand lifts, fingers sliding up the sharp edge of Jihoon's jaw, easing him round to face him.

“Don’t sulk. You’ll get your turn next. Unless I _exhaust_ him first.” Woozi purrs.

Seungcheol inhales and goes still. He manages to push himself to his feet, feeling like a weird sort of observer to some sort of strange experiment.

"Okay, what the _hell_ are you guys talking about?" he says over the hammering of his own pulse.

They both turn to look at him, gazes so predatory he feels like he should make a strategic retreat to his bedroom. He might even make it; he thinks he has _just_ enough blood left in his legs to make them work. (Though there’s a quiet part of his brain telling him they're both going to either _follow_ him or _stop_ him from leaving.)

“We’re talking about _you_ , and who gets to ride your dick first.” Woozi answers. Simple. Direct. Impudent. 

Seungcheol's pretty sure he should be doing a little less arm flailing and a little more talking here, but he's a little too floored to manage even that.

“Oh—Jesus.” He gets out. Which isn't a no, it's something, but it isn't a no.

He can't process this. This is too much, this is _insane_.

They've been fighting a subtle war over his time for weeks now, and suddenly _this_ is an acceptable compromise?

"This whole time you’ve been fighting over who gets to _ride_ me?" Seungcheol stalls, relieved at least that he managed to find his voice.

Woozi's expression shifts to cautious concern, and he cocks his head consideringly to one side. “You suggested we share—so this is us _sharing_. Unless you have a second dick we don’t know about somewhere?” He says, watching him intently.

“Or a twin?” Jihoon asks, almost hopefully.

Seungcheol coughs. Takes a deep breath. He tries to quiet his racing pulse by force of will and is only marginally successful.

“I—I don’t have a twin. Or an extra dick.” He can’t believe he needs to clarify either of these points.

“Well then, I guess we just have to _share_.” Woozi makes it sound like a _dirty_ word.

Seungcheol’s brain can't quite wrap around that. His dick is considerably faster on the uptake however, straining painfully against his zipper.

“What about the rule? The main rule. You…we never talked about this you guys! Don’t you think I should have been involved in this conversation at some point? What if I’m not interested? What if I’m _seeing_ someone?” Seungcheol says, making sure his tone sounds incredibly authoritative.

The twins recoil in surprise and look away, guilty and caught-out. They have matching expressions of shame, and now Seungcheol feels guilty as hell.

“Don’t—don’t pull those faces.” Seungcheol groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know I can’t handle it when you pull the lost kitten look on me.”

Then a different look crosses the twin’s faces, curiosity and determination in equal parts.

“ _Are_ you seeing someone?” Woozi asks, a probing glint in his eyes. 

“No.” Seungcheol answers plainly.

Then Jihoon steps closer, close enough to drop his voice to a private murmur, and asks, “Don’t you want to? Have you never considered the possibility?”

Seungcheol flinches. Despite Jihoon's tone—cautious, gentle, reverent—the question feels like an accusation. But he doesn't say no. He knows lying will accomplish nothing.

His breath gusts out of him in a pained laugh, dry and rough, and he shakes his head.

“That’s not the point. The point is—” He hesitates because—he doesn’t know _why_ he’s arguing here. He’s got two, extremely willing, undeniably hot guys fighting over his dick and if anyone should be cock-blocking him now—it certainly shouldn’t be _himself_. And if he’s being honest, he _has_ thought about it— _a lot._

Who _wouldn’t_ when you live with two, gorgeous guys. _Of course,_ he’s though about it. But before it was just a fantasy inside his head that he could jerk off to. He never imagined it could be a _reality_ where Jihoon and Woozi would be buying pretty underwear to seduce him and debating who would get to bounce on his dick first. Then he can't help _picturing_ that; the two of them somewhere discussing the mechanics of this new, potentially explosive twist to their arrangement. In excruciating detail. They probably drew diagrams. _Jesus_.

The twins seem to sense his turmoil, if the quiet understanding softening their features is anything to go by.

“We know it seems a _little_ out of the blue,” Woozi says, setting a hand on Seungcheol's arm to call his attention back. “But we’ve actually been thinking about it for a while. We both realised you were the perfect boyfriend for us ages ago, but we each kept it to ourselves because we didn’t want to make our living arrangement weird.”

“That night on your birthday, that’s when I finally said something to Woozi about it,” Jihoon pipes in quietly. “I guess he’d been thinking along the same lines, but was too afraid to say anything and wreck what we built with you. But we’re not afraid anymore Cheollie. We both want you.”

“W-why?” Seungcheol’s voice breaks.

He already feels a low tremble in his gut telling him this could end badly. But there's a glint of mischief in the twin’s eyes, and a piercing intensity in their gaze, and Seungcheol knows he's going to agree to whatever they want, even before Jihoon reaches out and squeezes his shoulder in a reassuring grip.

“Because we love you, Cheol.” Jihoon says with quiet emphasis. “You’re the sweetest guy ever. You’re really sweet and kind to both of us.”

“And you’re fucking hot.” Woozi interjects.

Jihoon nods agreeably, then cups his cheek. “And you’re the only one who puts up with our crap.”

“And the only one who treats us like individuals.” Woozi adds, stroking his jaw in one long ticklish stroke of movement.

And then they're both touching him, Jihoon's palms gentle and firm, Woozi's fingers ticklish and light. Their hands meet somewhere on Seungcheol's waist, warm fingers spreading, briefly tangling, and then sliding down to coast over the hard line of his cock.

Seungcheol can’t find a word to speak. They both know how to play him far too well.

Jihoon tucks his head under Seungcheol's chin, nuzzles his cheek along Seungcheol's jaw and says, “You do lots of nice things for us. Even when we don’t ask for it.”

“And you’re hot.” Woozi repeats, getting in on the snuggling action too.

“You said that already.” Jihoon says dryly, and Woozi levels a glare at him.

“Yeah, _well_ , it’s a fucking valid point that should be emphasized.” He spits back. “Didn’t you see how ripped he is?”

For a moment Seungcheol thinks they might start up another argument and forget about him completely. But they’re tendency for starting something over nothing seems to have evaporated with a shared goal in site: _Seungcheol_.

They surround him like bookends and murmur filthy things in his ear—things that they're going to do to him, things they're going to make him do. Unspeakably _dirty_ things that they’re speaking right into his ear. It makes Seungcheol's head buzz with ashamed anticipation, and his skin goes hot and flushed.

Woozi does most of the talking. Jihoon is busy kissing a heated trail along Seungcheol's throat, bestowing teasing bites just below his jaw, and the way they're both touching him is so intimate—so purposeful—that Seungcheol can't quite remember how to breathe.

“Whaddya say Cheol?” Woozi purrs, as Jihoon squeezes the muscles in his neck and whispers, “You’re the only one who can handle both of us.” It’s half a dare, half reassurance.

Whether it’s their words, or Seungcheol’s own damn possessiveness over them, or something else entirely, Seungcheol doesn’t know. But the twins share a grin when Seungcheol nods and surrenders himself to whatever they have in store for him.

There are two sets of hands on him, both of them bossy and commanding, but somehow it doesn’t feel like a contest as Jihoon kisses him and then Woozi does the same—as Jihoon works on his belt buckle, while Woozi helps divest him of his shirt—as Jihoon palms his dick and Woozi pinches his nipple—as someone sucks bruises into his throat, and someone ruts against his thigh, and someone’s fingers curl around the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down.

When Seungcheol’s boxers pool to the floor and he kicks them of, he sees the look they share; for all their bickering, they share some basic telepathy. Not that they’d ever admit it.

“Oh my god.” Jihoon says quietly.

“I told you it was _huge_.” Woozi says archly.

Jihoon bites his knuckle, eyes dropping meaningfully to Seungcheol’s cock. “It’s like two dicks in one. It was _made_ for us.”

“It’s not that great.” Seungcheol says with a shrug, because he’s sure anymore compliments and his dick may just develop a mind of its own and start campaigning for Presidency or something.

The twins smile up at him fondly, then have a brief silent conversation—which Jihoon apparently wins, because Woozi slowly, reluctantly, agrees. It's in the faint, stiff twitch of his jaw.

Jihoon rises on his tiptoes to kiss Seungcheol again, then drops on his knees in front of him.

“Hey, what—" Seungcheol can’t offer much more coherency because Jihoon’s pretty fingers are wrapping around his shaft, and his tongue is curling and clamping on and it’s so hot and tight and Jihoon looks so...

“Oh, fuck.” Seungcheol inhales and jerks. A long hiss falling out of him.

“Hmm, so _big_.” Jihoon moans, voice vibrating through Seungcheol’s dick in a way that’s hard not to be distracted by.

Almost as distracting are Woozi's hands, moving restlessly over Seungcheol's body like he's trying to press ownership into every inch of Seungcheol's skin.

Until Woozi squeezed his ass, Seungcheol wasn’t sure the pink haired twin planned to participate. They hadn’t exactly assigned roles, and Seungcheol figured Woozi just wanted to watch. But he should know better. Of course Woozi’s not going to sit back and keep to himself while his twin takes care of Seungcheol’s dick.

The pink haired twin begins licking a path down Seungcheol’s spine, then grabbing his ass in both hands and kneading roughly in a way that seems designed solely to destroy all coherent thought. Seungcheol suspects he's going to need at least a little of that to handle what the Lee Twins have planned for him, but it doesn't stop him from grinding back, instinctively, when Woozi rubs his dick almost lazily between his cheeks.

“Hmm—you like that, huh?” Woozi mumbles into his shoulder. Seungcheol feels the words shiver down his back, like a finger tracing the line of his spine. Then Woozi slinks out from behind him to plaster himself to his side, gripping his chin firmly. “You know, I thought a big guy like you would want us both on all fours, asses in the air. It’s nice to know you’re open to a little _experimentation_.”

Seungcheol turns his gaze meaningfully from Woozi down to where Jihoon’s lips are wrapped in an obscene circle around his cock, and then back. “I _think_ I’ve proven I’m plenty experimental Uji.”

Woozi smirks, and one hand finally settles low on Seungcheol's spine. The other comes to rest at Seungcheol's neck and tugs him closer for a rough, demanding kiss, sucking on his lower lip like he's exercising some right of ownership. Seungcheol submits to it eagerly, and Woozi starts jerking himself off while Seungcheol uses Jihoon’s mouth, hips working now in uncertain but intent shoves.

When Woozi pulls back for air, Seungcheol's eyes are barely focused, but he startles at the look he finds on the pink haired twin’s face.

Woozi is _smiling_ , one corner of his mouth tugging upwards in an expression that looks downright mischievous. His eyes dart down to where Jihoon is pressing kisses to the crown of Seungcheol’s cock, and all it takes is one tilt, a raised eyebrow, a noise that's briefly considering before his hand slides around the back of Jihoon's neck and his fingers dig and press in his hair.

Seungcheol has just enough time to think Woozi absolutely _won't_ do what he thinks he's going to do.

But then he _does_.

There's hunger in the hard push against the back of Jihoon neck, and the soft, low noise of appreciation when Jihoon does as he's told, goes where he's pushed.

Seungcheol’s stomach tightens sharply with desire, and he groans, low and helpless as his cock hits the back of Jihoon’s throat. Jihoon's breathing hard through his nose, fingers sliding on Seungcheol's thighs. Trying to hold himself there, trying not to choke.

It’s too much, and Seungcheol reacts to Jihoon's soft, hitched groan of discomfort. To the vibration around the weight of his cock. He pulls back, slides his cock free just long enough for Jihoon to draw a shuddering breath of air.

Woozi has one eyebrow raised, like he's mentally rating his brother's performance and that's about as much as Seungcheol can take.

“Don’t do that again. I could have hurt him.” He orders. The sound of his own voice surprises him, ragged and full of gravel.

Woozi looks remorseful for just a second, then quirks an amused brow at him, “But he wants it. He wants you to fuck his mouth, he’s just too shy to ask.”

The words are clearly meant for Seungcheol's ears, but he sees the shiver they elicit in Jihoon.

Seungcheol reaches for Jihoon with one hand, carding his fingers through his hair before letting his touch drift lower—cupping Jihoon's chin and pressing his thumb meaningfully against his reddened lower lip.

Jihoon's mouth opens obediently, and Seungcheol presses his thumb inside. He watches rapt as Jihoon's lips close around him, cheeks hollowing as he sucks on the offered digit, and Seungcheol can't look away.

"You liked that?" He hears himself ask. The question feels gruff and unsteady. It doesn't sound like him.

Jihoon nods, watching him, expression wide and trusting and expectant. He’s blushing too, Seungcheol realizes. Or maybe Seungcheol's just perceiving the world a little too intensely right now. It's hard to tell, especially when his brain is busy tripping over the explicit go-ahead Jihoon just gave him.

Seungcheol’s dick is impatient, curved high against his stomach but he still pauses there, blinking and breathless. He pulls his hand away from Jihoon's mouth, trailing his spit-slick thumb over the inviting swell of Jihoon's lower lip.

"Open," he says anyway.

Jihoon instantly complies, and Seungcheol guides himself deeper into his mouth. He groans aloud at the wet, mind-crashing heat sliding along his cock. His hand slips to the back of Jihoon's head—tightens in his hair—and Jihoon makes a low, eager sound in his throat as Seungcheol's hips stutter forward and drive his cock further into Jihoon's mouth.

"Give him more," Woozi interjects, rutting excitedly against Seungcheol’s thigh.

" _Fuck_ ," Seungcheol breathes, even as he curves his grip around the base of Jihoon's skull and holds tighter still. He doesn't let himself over-think. He thrusts forward in a single, smooth motion and groans when Jihoon simply opens his throat and swallows.

Seungcheol doesn't stop until he feels the press of Jihoon's nose against his belly, the ripple of sensation that comes from Jihoon's throat working around his cock, struggling to accommodate the length and girth.

Seungcheol shifts, braces himself to draw back, but Woozi's voice stops him short.

"Don't," Woozi says, pushing fingers into his twin’s hair and holding him steady. "Stay there. He loves it."

"Jesus," Seungcheol breathes.

Holding still this way might be the hardest thing he's ever done. But he does it. He waits. He fights back the threatening crest of his orgasm—knows damn well it's not yet time—and his breath turns shocky, dragging harshly in with the minutest movements of Jihoon's mouth and throat.

Jihoon doesn't try to pull away—ineffectual though any such effort would be, between Seungcheol’s grip restraining his head and Woozi's hand still forceful in his hair—but he begins to tremble, softly at first, then harder as the seconds drag further and further out.

Seungcheol doesn't even realize what he's waiting for until finally Woozi says, "Now."

When Seungcheol draws back, he doesn't pull all the way out. Somehow, with nothing more than a glance at Woozi, he knows that's not what he should do. But he pulls far enough back that barely more than the head of his cock is filling Jihoon's mouth, and Jihoon's eyes—closed a moment before—open and find Seungcheol, lock onto him with a burning intensity as Jihoon takes the opportunity to breathe.

"Again," Woozi murmurs, and Seungcheol thrusts forward.

It's not enough time, Seungcheol thinks.

Jihoon is unprepared for the sudden force of the cock ramming down his throat, cutting off all air once more. Choking him this time, earning a jerking gag as Jihoon struggles to adjust.

 _Now_ there are tears in Jihoon's eyes. In the next instant wet tracks slick down his cheeks, and _oh_ , how the sight makes Seungcheol _burn_.

"So good for me," Seungcheol says even as Jihoon fights to settle down and _take_ what Seungcheol is giving him. "My sweet Jihoonie."

Jihoon’s eyes flutter involuntarily closed at the praise. So fucking shy, even with a dick down his throat.

Woozi is not so shy as his brother. He is greedy and not at all afraid to demand. To thread fingers through Jihoon’s hair and push, and he seems ever more amused when Jihoon doesn’t whine or turn his head away.

With Woozi’s fist anchored in his twin’s hair, he encourages Jihoon to go faster, to take Seungcheol deeper with one messy shove after another that leaves Jihoon with tears in his eyes, groaning helplessly and making wet, obscene noises as he tries to take more with each thrust.

Jihoon’s fingers wrapped around the base of Seungcheol’s cock fall away, until it's just the heat of his mouth and the tight suction of his lips. He still doesn’t protest—doesn’t do anything but relax his jaw and take it as Woozi holds him in place and Seungcheol fucks his mouth deeper.

Woozi stops them before Seungcheol can come, fingers catching in Jihoon’s hair, drawing him off and back to a kneeling position. Seungcheol's not sure how the guy _knows_ , but his interruption is perfect, gives Seungcheol just enough time to hold himself back.

“Can I play too?” Woozi asks his twin. It's a lazy curious question.

“Yeah.” Jihoon says, his voice is a throaty growl that sounds like a living thing.

Then Woozi moves, dropping to his knees on the floor next to his twin, who seems more than happy to scoot over.

Seungcheol's breath lodges raggedly in his chest at the sight. They’re _sharing_.

Yeah, okay—it’s his dick. But still—they’re _sharing_.

He’s weirdly, and inappropriately proud.

Woozi is the first to reach forward, grabbing Seungcheol at the base and stroking a few times before suctioning his lips over the head. Seungcheol lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest.

He reaches out and runs his fingers along Woozi's head encouragingly, then looks at Jihoon. Jihoon isn’t watching him at all—but watching his twin and weathering his lower lip. After a moment he leans in too, and Woozi moves around to lap at the side of Seungcheol's shaft, making room for them both.

Seungcheol’s breath hitches in those few seconds when Jihoon's mouth finally joins Woozi’s, and his lips latch on to the opposite side of Seungcheol's cock.

 _Fuck_ —this is something else.

Everything is wet.

Or at least, that's what it feels like to Seungcheol, whose world has been narrowed down to the two guys sucking his cock. 

It’s an odd, and very new feeling, having two sets of lips and tongues working on him. Seungcheol sighs and closes his eyes, overawed at how incredible it looks or that it’s happening at all.

Woozi seems particularly fond of Seungcheol's foreskin, and when he looks down next, Woozi has tugged it between his lips and is gently sucking. While Jihoon seems to enjoy everything about the sheer size, and he hums approvingly as he licks and sucks along Seungcheol’s length, eyes closed.

It’s not long before they become sloppy and uncoordinated, tongues slipping over each other as they both focus their attention on the leaking tip. They take turns lapping at the salty fluid that gathers there, their mouths shine wet, never empty for long until they both try and suck the tip into their mouths at the same time and end up _compromising_.

Seungcheol’s hips jerk reflexively, aroused beyond belief at the sight of the twins practically kissing, with the sensitive head of his prick in the middle.

" _Fuck_ ," he hisses, barely holding on.

He's more than a little ashamed of his own reaction. Because he didn't think he was the sort of person to encourage _this_ but Woozi and Jihoon don't just break the rules, they set the pieces on fire. Leave the remains unrecognisable. This is insane, it's insane and so very, very wrong and he can't quite get enough air with them doing that, still doing— _fuck._

“Is this good?” Jihoon asks.

“Do you like this?” Woozi chimes in too.

The intent way they’re looking at him is possibly one of the hottest things Seungcheol’s seen. Seungcheol watches them back through half-open eyes, breath heavy with desire and listens to the thud of his own heartbeat. 

“Yeah.” Seungcheol sighs, reaching out to pet their heads. “I love it—you’re both amazing.”

That’s when the twins move in tandem: Woozi starts bobbing his head up and down Seungcheol's entire length, cheeks hallowing as he sucks; Jihoon has moved lower to lap at the juncture of his thigh, right next to his balls.

Seungcheol is fairly certain he's never seen Woozi look so satisfied, _ever_. No one should be able to look smug while deepthroating cock but Woozi manages it. The fact that he's doing it while his twin watches, has stolen all rational thought from Seungcheol.

He can hear himself breathing, every hot, quick rush of it. “You’ll both be the death of me.”

Woozi hums in agreement—or at least he tries to—and though he makes no sound, the fluttering of muscle sends such pleasant sensations along Seungcheol's dick that it's all he can do _not_ to thrust his hips in harder.

As if his sensory overload isn't already reaching a critical point, Seungcheol notices that each twin has a hand shoved down the back of their underwear, expertly fingering themselves.

That’s it, he’s done for.

He makes a strangled sound and tugs Woozi off his dick. The Lee twins catch on quickly and shift their positions. They nestle close together, cheek to cheek, mouths open in eager anticipation.

“I want a taste.”

“Me too.”

Seungcheol groans and strokes his saliva-slicked shaft firmly, furiously, eyes glued to the twin’s faces, wanting nothing more than to make a mess of them, and holy fuck, they look so blissful, waiting for it. And as much as Seungcheol wants to slam his eyes shut — he’s so hard and it’s been so long — he _has_ to watch, even as his body shudders in tense, hard jerks and ropes of thick white come streak Woozi’s cheeks, across the bridge of Jihoon nose, up Woozi’s temple and into Jihoon’s hair.

Their mouths are open and they’re craning for it, both leaning forward to take the last weak spurts and licking at their bottom lips to taste the drips there. Without thinking, Seungcheol helpfully reaches down and scoops up a long streak from Woozi’s chin and pushes his finger into Jihoon’s mouth. Jihoon immediately seals his lips around the digit and hums appreciatively.

Seungcheol swears, audibly, shakily, and there's no hope at all of hiding the sheer amount of shocked _want_ in his voice.

He’d do anything for them, absolutely anything. And they’re both staring up at him from under cum slicked lashes, like they would too, no hesitation.

Seungcheol accepts he’s probably going to hell, but— _hey_ —at least he’ll have company.

* * *

“This one. I like it. It’s huge.” Jihoon smiles, gesturing at bed number 67389.

“This is the one I pointed out last week and you said no.” Woozi huffs.

Jihoon steps over to the other side, inspecting the bed from another angle. 

“Huh. It must have been a different colour.”

Seungcheol remains silent where he’s leaning on the wall behind them. He’s already made his arguments— _we don’t need a bigger bed, it’s not like you guys stick to your own side anyway_ —and he’s no desire to voice them out loud in the middle of a shop. _Again_.

They’ve already been chased out of IKEA for ‘practicing’ on the showroom beds.

He does step closer to assess the plumpness of the mattress though, because that _is_ something they could do with getting another of. Their current mattress is…well…

Let’s just say it’s beginning to feel the _strain_.

“So, we’re agreed?” Woozi prompts, pulling one of the many little pencil he stole from IKEA out from behind his ear. “This one?”

Jihoon hums, stretching his limbs out across the bed as far as they’re go. It’s not very far, but the position is a striking reminder of exactly how he looked last night, when Seungcheol was pounding into him, hard, while Woozi was pressed against Seungcheol’s back, just like a second skin, dragging a finger along the crease of his ass, rubbing at his hole, still wet and sore from riding him earlier.

“Hey—”

Seungcheol jerks his head to the side to see some random guy standing next to him, watching the twins testing out the bed with an amused twist to his mouth, “Uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but I gotta ask. Which one is—”

“They’re both mine, fuck off.”


End file.
